Two of a Kind
by Jeannie G
Summary: LoganOC CHAPTER 22 I can't even begin to summarize...more angst! Please RR! I've also tweaked some of the older chapters, nothing major but it makes me feel better :
1. The Guy at the Bar

The usual disclaimers: all X-men characters are property of Marvel. All song lyrics used are under copyright to their respective artists. Brianna is who I would love to be, in my fantasy world. This is my first attempt at fanfic, so I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I am!

**Chapter 1--The Guy at the Bar  
**  
"When logic and proportion  
Have fallen softly dead.  
And the White Knight is talking backward,  
And the Red Queen's off her head,  
Remember….  
What the dormouse said.  
Heed your head,  
Heed your he-e-a-a-a-a-d."

I finished the last note with a strong flourish and the crowd erupted in cheers and whistles.

"Yeah, girl!"

"Woo hoo!"

"Awesome!"

"Thanks, thank you! I'll be back, so keep your butts planted!" I shouted into the dented microphone. The familiar surge of adrenaline rushed to my head, making me feel almost punch-drunk. I leapt off the dimly lit stage and wiped the sweat off my face and neck with the back of my arm. My white tank top was soaked, as was the red bandana do-rag I always wore on stage to tame my auburn waves.

Everyone was still clapping and shouting. I grabbed my empty glass from the edge of the stage and pushed my way through the mass of sweaty drunken bar patrons. The scents of body odor, old perfume, alcohol and smoke all assaulted my nose in a nauseating wave.

"Hey, babe!"

"That was awesome!"

"Wanna come sit with me an' my friends?"

I felt someone grab my ass; another hand clapped me on the back, hard. Ignoring it all, I fought hard not to vomit from the stench overwhelming my heightened sense of smell. Giving the walking side of beef that was blocking the doorway a sharp elbow in the ribs finally got me out, into the relative quiet of the bar and pool room. I took a deep breath to clear my head and get my bearings. The rush I always got from being on stage was beginning to fade and I really needed a drink. I climbed up on a barstool and waved my empty glass at the scantily clad girl behind the bar.

"Waddaya have, hon?"

"Rum and diet." I slid the glass over and leaned heavily on my elbows, propping my chin on my open palms. The odors in the bar were much more bearable. Inhaling deeply through my nose again, I could smell that the guys playing pool drank Jack Daniels; the couple next to me had come from a movie theater, the distinct cinematic aroma clinging to their clothes. I caught an intriguing whiff of someone, almost familiar, as the bartender set my drink in front of me.

"It's on the guy down there," she announced with a wink of one heavily shadowed eye. I glanced in the direction she was pointing at the same time the half-familiar scent came to me again. My eyes connected with the most incredible specimen of maleness I had ever seen. Suddenly my black leather pants felt two sizes too small and I had to make a conscious effort to breathe.

He was leaning against the bar rail, one work boot-encased ankle crossed casually over the other. His impossibly long legs were clad in well- worn jeans that emphasized his taut thigh muscles and…other attributes. A huge, shiny Indian head belt buckle only served to draw my attention where I was trying desperately not to look. His well fitting white T-shirt stretched across a broad chest and over heavily muscled shoulders. Swallowing hard, I raised my eyes to his face, and I was totally gone.

He was looking at me with the most smoldering hazel-brown eyes I had ever seen, apart from the ones that looked back at me from the mirror every morning. His thick, almost black hair swept up and away from his temples, giving him a slightly wolf like appearance. This was amplified by the sideburns he wore down the entire length of his strong jaw line. An unlit cigar clamped between cynical, sensuous lips suddenly gave me the wild desire to be a Mi Cubano.

I shook my head abruptly, wondering at the effect this total stranger was having on me. This totally mesmerizing, incredibly sexy stranger with the wild animal aura; for his was the intriguing, woodsy scent I had caught earlier. It was stronger now, because he was sauntering towards me with a beer in his hand. He moved with a feral grace and attitude that spoke volumes, mostly to the not-so-innocent parts of my mind.

"Whoa," I said under my breath, swallowing around the sudden tightness in my chest. I forced myself to look down at my drink, my hands, anywhere but at him. My primal reaction to the guy disturbed me greatly. And why did his scent seem so familiar?

"Whoa, yourself," a low-tenored, husky voice growled from above my head. How the hell did he hear me say that? I wondered briefly. Then my senses were completely overwhelmed by his presence. His smell, his body heat, the energy emanating from him all made me feel as if I were going to slide right off the barstool like so much jelly. I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and looked up. And up.

Dark, flashing eyes looked down at me, a cocky half-smile showing a glimpse of humor in an otherwise brooding face. He towered over me by good six or seven inches, perched on the stool as I was. Standing, it would probably be closer to ten better than my five foot four-inch height. The puddle-of-jelly feeling got worse.

Get a grip, Brianna, I scolded myself. He's just another joker, another barfly trying to score with the rocker chick.

I brought that tough-girl persona to the forefront and cocked an eyebrow at my companion. "I think this is taking tall, dark and handsome to the extreme." I lifted my drink toward him and gave him a close-lipped smile. "Thanks for the drink, though. Cheers." Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome touched his Molson's bottle briefly to the rim of my glass before removing the cigar from between his teeth and taking a long pull of his beer.

"Welcome. You gotta great voice." His words came out low and velvety, like a lion purring. "You've been singing a while." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, as long as I can remember. I love music." I said slowly, once again flustered. This was not how these conversations usually went. I relaxed a little and gave my new friend a real smile. "So, aren't you going to ask me if I come here often? Or what my sign is?"

This actually provoked a snort and a reluctant smile from my wolfish companion. "You want me to?"

"Thank you, no," I laughed. "What's your name?" I was dying to have something to call this guy. I was also hoping his name would give me a clue as to why his scent was so teasingly familiar.

"Name's Logan. Yours?" God, that voice was really doing things to me. But "Logan" didn't ring any bells and, as enticing as he was, I wasn't ready to trust him just yet. Too many years in too many bars had taught me too many lessons I didn't care to repeat.

I nodded toward one of my promo posters on the wall. "Vixen," I replied, giving him a level stare, mentally daring him to make a stupid, lewd comment.

Logan returned an identical hazel-brown stare, then quirked one eyebrow. "Your parents had a strange sense of humor, darlin'." He clamped his cigar between perfect white teeth and leaned against the bar, propping himself casually on one elbow, like he was settling in until he got a straight answer. I had the distinct feeling he was a man who always got what he wanted.

It was becoming very apparent that this Logan was not your average pick up artist. The longer I sat here, the more confused and intrigued I was becoming. I decided the only way to really figure this guy out was to read him. I reached out lightly with my mind, using the empathic ability I had to try and sense his true intentions. Fierce slashes of red and black colored my psyche with the onslaught of anger and passion I encountered. Great loss, barely controlled rage and animal lust all swirled together in such a maelstrom that I felt I would drown if I did not break contact.

Logan was scowling at me. "Find what you're looking for?" he growled in a low, dangerous voice.

I gaped at him, my heart pounding in my ears. The brief intense glimpse into his mind had left my thoughts in chaos.

"The telepaths I know usually ask before they pull something like that," Logan continued. He brought his face dangerously close to mine, and his glare got angrier. I had never been more scared or excited in my life.

"I'm an empath," I blurted breathlessly. I clapped my hands over my traitorous mouth before I could give anything else away. Logan's nostrils flared once, twice, as if he were testing the air, my scent. The blood was finally beginning to settle in my head and a suspicion was growing in my mind. I caught that enticing, half-familiar smell again and the realization hit me full force. I smiled and leaned forward, forcibly ignoring all of the delicious thoughts being this close to him was putting in my head. It was time to make HIM squirm. I brushed Logan's ear with my lips, resisting the tantalizing urge to catch the velvety lobe between my teeth. "You're a mutant too, aren't you?" I whispered knowingly.

Logan inhaled sharply, whether in response to my words or my touch, I didn't know. "You're good, darlin'," he murmured, his warm breath tickling my ear. That sensation, along with the feel of his whiskers brushing against my cheek, set my nerves tingling. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by mental and emotional stimuli. Thoughts swirling, I felt a powerful surge of…something course up from my gut to explode in my mind. I had sudden, vivid images of Logan and myself tangled in a passionate embrace, sweat glistening on our naked bodies…

Logan and I both gasped simultaneously and backed, no, were pushed away from each other as if by an actual physical force. I had to grab hold of the bar rail to keep from tumbling off my seat. The look of shock and bewilderment on Logan's face was surely mirrored on my own.

"What the hell was that ?!?" I demanded angrily. I could feel the heat rising in my face, and knew I was blushing furiously, the blood pounding in my ears.

Logan recovered quickly, and with a cocky half-grin replied, " I dunno, but I wouldn't go around doin' that to just anybody, if I were you."

"What!? Wh…you…th-that wasn't me!" I stammered, my thoughts still scrambled.

"Sure as hell wasn't me." Logan took a long swallow from his beer. I gaped at him, no organized words coming to mind. I vaguely heard the crowd noise in the other room gain volume, and my name being called over the PA system. My last set was coming up and I had never felt less like going on stage. My brain seemed like it was trying to leak out through my ears, and my mouth was dry as cotton.

I downed the last of my drink in one large gulp and stood, a bit unsteadily. "Gotta go. Thanks for the drink, Logan, " I said brusquely, wanting desperately to get away from him so I could think clearly.

"Call me Wolverine, _Vixen_." The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable and, surprisingly, it hurt.

I took a deep breath, steeled myself once again and looked straight into the Wolverine's eyes. "My name's Brianna," I said and felt something soften between us. I knew, somehow, we were now connected, for whatever inexplicable reason, and my life would never be the same.


	2. Sabertooth

**Chapter 2--Sabertooth**

"I could not run away, it seemed…We'd seen each other in a dream …Seemed like he knew me,  
He looked right through me…"

I was singing a Heart song under my breath as I walked back to my motel in the very early morning hours. Usually walking helped me relax after a gig, but this time it was useless. I couldn't get Logan out of my head. Not just his looks and scent, but his energy, his animal magnetism all filled my thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me? I never let anyone get under my skin like this. I my life, it wasn't a good idea.

_But he's a mutant too_, that optimistic inner voice reminded me.

"Try, try, try to understand…I'm a magic man…"

I raised my lip in a silent snarl. _So what? He's a mutant, big deal. Any kind of involvement is only trouble waiting to happen,_ I growled at the Pollyanna in my head.

Age seventeen was when my God-fearing parents had decided I was the spawn of Satan and had driven me from the house. My mutation had been my own dirty little secret for years, until the day I dumped my motorcycle tearing up our gravel driveway at home. The shredded layers of skin on my calf and thigh had miraculously regenerated themselves under my mother's horrified gaze, the first aid kit falling uselessly from her hand. I would never forget that feeling of utter dread as the dirt and pebbles imbedded in the wounds had been forced out by the knitting flesh to fall in a small bloodstained pile at Mom's feet.

I was brought out of my reverie by a now familiar scent in the air. Logan? I looked around expectantly, but saw no one. Sniffing again, my nostrils were suddenly filled with a vile feline odor. There was a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, and a large, hairy form leapt out from the shadows of a narrow alley. I was enveloped in matted fur and bad breath as my assailant slammed into me, sending us both crashing to the ground. My skull impacted with the cement and stars exploded behind my eyes.

I couldn't breathe, whether from the pain or the stench, I couldn't tell. I struggled to get some air, to find my voice to scream. I managed to get one arm up and tried to jam my fingers into my attacker's windpipe, but he caught my wrist easily in one massive, clawed hand. I heard an evil laugh and then I was staring into dark, fathomless eyes in a snarling face.

"You're a pretty little thing, " the monster said with a lecherous smile. He slowly drew one dirty talon down the side of my face. I winced, feeling a stinging pain, and blood welled up from the shallow cut.

My head clearing, my fear and alarm were quickly turning to anger. Who the hell did this guy think he was? A low, angry growl began in my chest, built up and exploded in an all out roar. Startled, the hairy beast loosened his grip on my wrist and I threw the heel of my hand forward with all my strength, smashing into his nose. I heard a sickening crunch and a fine spray of blood hit me in the face.

An amused chuckle was the only response from my assailant, who remained solidly on top of me. He was effectively squashing my liver up into my diaphragm, and I was beginning to see spots from lack of oxygen.

"You still have a way with women, Creed."

That growling, dangerous voice sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I craned my neck to see Logan a few yards away in a fight-ready stance, gleaming nine-inch blades protruding from between the knuckles on both hands. I stared, disbelieving, for a moment, then a huge grin spread across my face.

"I thought I smelled you on the little bitch, runt," Creed snarled, never taking his eyes off me. He brought his face to mine and slowly, deliberately licked up the thin line of blood from the already-healed wound he had inflicted. I cringed, utter revulsion filling my throat with bile. I inhaled and, with what breath I had left, spit in Creed's face.

This only drew another chuckle from the beast, and he stood up casually, seemingly unconcerned with any threat Logan posed. "I'll finish with you later, bitch." He pointed a taloned finger at me menacingly, and then turned to face the Wolverine.

I rolled away gasping, the sudden intake of oxygen burning my lungs. Futilely trying to stand on leaden legs, I faintly registered the sounds of struggle behind me. I managed to get to my knees, my healing ability already kicking in to bring my body functions back to normal. In my peripheral vision I could see Creed topple to the ground with Logan on top of him, one set of claws buried in the larger man's shoulder. They rolled in a tangled, growling heap, until Creed sent Logan flying into the side of the building with a well placed foot to the midsection. The impact blew clouds of cement dust out in all directions.

I was suddenly filled with a seething, unexplainable hatred for this Creed guy. Obviously he and Logan knew each other, but his unprovoked attack on me had me seeing red, literally. And now Logan was getting the crap beat out of him on my account. This fueled my anger so that I let my animal instincts get the better of me.

I stood, now fully recovered, and with a low growl, unsheathed my own set of razor sharp claws. I barely registered the stinging pain as the metal pierced the skin between my knuckles. I launched myself at Creed's back, snarling loudly, and buried all six blades to the hilt, somewhere in the vicinity of his kidneys. The impact sent shock waves all the way to my spine.

Creed dropped heavily to his knees and twisted, trying to dislodge me. He swiped back blindly with one tree-trunk sized arm and caught me square in the side of the head. I bit my tongue, hard, but the coppery taste of my own blood only made me angrier. With a vicious twist, I dug my claws in deeper, growling through barred teeth.

Suddenly, a large, inhumanly strong hand grabbed me by the back of the neck and Creed somehow pulled me roughly up and over his head. My blades came free of his body with a sickening, meaty sound as I sailed through the air. I hit the ground and rolled up to my feet, just in time to see the almost comical look of amazement on Creed's face disappear as Logan's booted foot caught him solidly under the chin. The beast went sprawling, and then he lay still.

Keeping one eye on his victim, Logan approached me slowly, taking in my bloody disheveled appearance. I was still on guard, nostrils flaring, claws poised in case the still form on the ground showed any sign of movement.

"You OK?" Logan took me by the shoulder and gave me a light squeeze. He was in no better shape than I, his shirt torn and dirty, blood already drying on his hands an arms. I stared at Logan, uncomprehending, trying to get a handle on what had just happened. With little surprise, I noticed that there was a gash on his forehead that was closing rapidly on its own. "Are you OK?" he asked again, more urgently, brow knitted in concern.

The red haze of rage that had enveloped me suddenly dissipated, leaving me dazed and shaking. I brought my hands up, slowly retracting my own blood-caked claws. The crimson flakes that fell from them as the cool metal slid back through my skin fascinated me. I noticed, with great detachment, that my hands were trembling violently. "I'm fine." My voice sounded very far away. "Just peachy." I looked into Logan's eyes and began to laugh hysterically.

I could feel his alarm and concern in my mind as well as see it on his face. "Hey, Wolverine," I hiccupped, feeling a bit unhinged, "Get outta my head." I giggled again as the ground rushed up to meet me.


	3. The Ride to the Mansion

**Chapter 3--The Ride to the Mansion  
**  
I was vibrating.

This was the first sensation that came to me as I floated up to consciousness. The second was the pleasantly warm, very solid something my head was resting against. The combined sensation was strangely comforting, and I sleepily nuzzled my cheek into the warmth. A wonderful woodsy scent tickled my nose. I sniffed again and caught an underlying whiff of …motorcycle exhaust?

I peeled one eye open and was met with the vision of trees and telephone poles rushing by in a blur. Ok, that explained the vibrations and fumes. I was on a motorcycle, pressed tightly up against someone's back, speeding along…where?

My mind sluggishly tried to bring my disjointed thoughts into some sort of order. The who's, what's and why's of the situation flitted around wildly, searching for something to connect with. Then I smelled dried blood and remembered.

I gasped and stiffened, causing the bike to wobble slightly. I realized my arms were bound tightly around the driver's waist, whom I now recognized by his very unique scent.

"Logan?" I said into his back, not wanting to move and unbalance the cycle any further.

"Yeah?" I felt his voice reverberate against my ear more than heard it over the roar of the engine.

Still not completely convinced I wasn't dreaming all this, my attitude was one of mild amusement. "Where're we going? Someplace fun, I hope."

"Someplace safe." His gruff reply erased all traces of disbelief I still had. I craned my neck to try and see over Logan's shoulder, with no success. Wriggling my hands experimentally, I realized they were being restrained by Logan's right hand wrapped around my wrists.

Being ever practical, I asked, "How're you planning on braking?"

"I wasn't," he shot back at me, but he did loosen his grip. I flexed my fingers, joints popping loudly, and sat back a bit, but I was more than happy to keep my hands resting on Logan's hips for balance.

I tilted my face up to the night wind, eyes closed, and a slow smile spread across my face. I always loved riding and racing motorcycles. The adrenaline rush was intoxicating. I remembered the first time I ever threw my leg over a bike seat and the sensation of raw power rumbling beneath me. I was immediately addicted to the excitement and speed, the feeling of freedom and invincibility.

_Logan felt the same way.  
_  
My eyes flew open and I scowled in confusion and semi-anger. "Hey!" I yelled over the wind, "What're you doing in my head again?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," came Logan's reply. "I'm glad you're liking the ride, though." I could hear wry amusement in his voice.

I made a mental note to pursue this unsettling development when we weren't speeding along a dark road at 80 miles per hour. At the moment, more pressing questions came to mind. "Who the hell was that back there? And what did he want with me?" A wave of revulsion swept through me as I remembered the hairy beast and his attempt to…what? I knew it wasn't merely robbery or rape Creed had had in mind. I had sensed something much more sinister in his dark aura.

Logan reached back and placed his hand over mine, giving it a warm, reassuring squeeze before taking hold of the bike's handlebar again. "You'll be safe with me," he said in response to my unvoiced fear. An unexpected, warm comfort filled my mind at Logan's words. I was indeed safe with him, I knew instinctively. "The bastard's name is Victor Creed," he continued, answering my original question. "But lately he's been going by Sabertooth. Why Magneto sent him after you, I don't know. We'll find out, though. The Professor…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I interrupted. "What's a Magneto? What're you talking about?" Things were being thrown at me way to fast. "And you still haven't told me where you're taking me." I didn't like having no control over my situation like this.

My answer came just then as we slowed and a massive wrought iron gate loomed into view. We stopped between two large brick columns and Logan punched a code in on the security panel set in the side of one of them. I read a plaque, dimly lit by the moon, which stated we were at XAVIER'S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS. The gates swung open silently and, as we passed through, I wondered just what I was getting myself into.


	4. More in Common

**Chapter 4--More in Common**

Well?" Logan rose from the leather sofa he'd been perched on when Dr. Grey and I came into the room. "Everything alright?" He was freshly showered and dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans and he smelled even more wonderful than before.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I waved a dismissive hand in the air. The doctor had given me a mild sedative to help me relax, and I was feeling no pain, grinning expansively at everyone and everything.

"Her healing factor took care of any injuries she might have had," the tall elegant Dr. Jean Grey added. She smiled softly at the expression of shock on Logan's face.

"Healing factor?" He looked pointedly at me, arching an eyebrow. "Really."

"Yup. You're not as unique as you thought, buddy." I socked him in the arm playfully.

Logan exchanged a long, intense look with Jean. I could sense the deep affection he had for the beautiful doctor, and I felt a stab of jealousy. "Anything else that might interest me, Doctor?" he growled.

"Um…adamantium skeleton?" I brightly volunteered before Jean could answer. Logan's ferocious gaze flicked from Jean to me and back again, searching for confirmation. I just grinned widely at him, while Dr. Grey nodded slightly.

"Yes, Logan. Brianna's been through pretty much the same procedure as you, adamantium grafting and claw implants. But, like you, she has no memory of who did this to her, or why." I heard something in the lovely redhead's voice that told me she knew more than she was letting on.

The three of us stood for a long moment, not speaking. Then the silence was broken by the quiet whir of a motorized wheelchair and a very distinguished bald man glided into the room. "Hello, Brianna. I'm Charles Xavier," he greeted me with a very cultivated accent. I felt the overwhelming urge to curtsey, so strong was the sense of respect and love for the man that suddenly permeated the air.

I settled for stepping forward and shaking the Professor's hand. "Nice to meet you," I said humbly, already in awe of him.

"I understand you've had a very trying day, Brianna. Would you prefer to talk after you've had some sleep?" Professor Xavier asked kindly.

My mind was bursting with unformed questions that I desperately wanted answers to, but I realized that I was indeed dead tired and emotionally exhausted, as well. "Actually sleep sounds like heaven right now," I admitted.

"Very well. Jean, will you please show Brianna to a guest room?" The professor's request was directed at Dr. Grey, but Logan quickly responded, "The room next to mine's the safest place for her."

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him simultaneously. I had learned from Jean that she and the professor were telepaths, so I guessed that they had also picked up from Logan the strong wave of protectiveness that was directed at me. It was a very nice feeling, to say the least. I beamed giddily at everyone.

Dr. Grey and Professor Xavier both smiled knowingly, and the professor nodded in agreement. "Indeed. We'll speak again after breakfast, Brianna. Good night." Jean followed him to the door, then turned and looked at Logan in silent communication. He scowled ferociously at her, and the lovely doctor's soft laughter followed her out the door.

Walking through the dimly lit corridors with Logan, I happily studied this man who had, in the space of a few hours, become a central part of my life. He wanted to protect me, and that was something I had never experienced before. Why he was so concerned for me, I didn't want to try and figure out just now. I was more than content to bask in the warmth of the feeling. Tomorrow I'd worry about the rest.

_Logan didn't even quite know what was going on between us.  
_  
Why did I keep feeling him in my head?

Logan stopped in front of one of a half-dozen heavy wooden doors that lined the hall. He opened it and stepped in to turn on the lights, revealing a very spacious bedroom, complete with an overstuffed sofa and easy chair, computer desk and possibly the most comfortable looking bed I had ever seen. My eyelids began to droop sleepily.

Logan strode across to the window, checking the locks and seals. When he was satisfied with their security, he turned and spoke to me for the first time since leaving the Professor's study. "My room's right through there." With a nod of his head he indicated a door set in the wall next to the dresser. "If you need anything…"

Logan stepped forward quickly and got an arm around my midsection just in time to keep me from collapsing on the floor. The stresses of the evening, combined with the sedative, were all too much for me, and I was falling asleep on my feet. Logan scooped me up in his arms and carried me over to the bed. I nuzzled my cheek into his wonderfully broad shoulder and thought how perfect it would be to curl up and sleep for hours, wrapped in the Wolverine's protective embrace.

Logan laid me down gently and, in response to my unspoken thought, peeled his T-shirt off over his head. My eyes widened in astonishment. _Oh, my…_ "You can sleep in this. It's not quite the same but…" he trailed off, his teasing tone vanishing as he slid the soft cotton shirt over my head and helped me get my arms through the sleeves. I wondered briefly about the tattered white tank top I was still wearing underneath, then Logan's hands were suddenly up against my bare ribcage. I gasped at the unexpected heat on my skin. I heard a soft tearing sound and the remains of my shirt cam away easily, leaving me enveloped in Logan's scent and the sensuous feel of soft fabric against my bare flesh.

Logan sat on the edge of the bed with the shreds of my tank top clutched in his fists. We stared at each other, the mutual attraction we'd felt since our meeting now vividly apparent to both of us. I could feel the conflict in his mind that echoed in my own. Things were very perplexing to me right now. Did I want to complicate it any further by acting on pure animal lust?

_If he keeps looking at me like that_, I thought, the desire to sleep rapidly diminishing, _I'm likely to…  
_  
Logan shook his head slightly, like a man waking from a daydream. "I'd love to find out what you've got in mind, darlin', but now's probably not the best time," he growled softly. He rose to go, the remnants of my shirt still in his hands. _He wanted very badly to kiss me…_

"We gotta talk," I mumbled, sleep already overtaking me again, "about this habit of yours…"

"I can't get you outta my head either, Vixen," Logan responded brusquely, heading for the door that separated our rooms. He stopped with his hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and turned his gaze back to me. The warmth in those intense hazel eyes was a mental good night kiss that left beautiful sparks of color in my consciousness as I drifted to sleep.


	5. Breakfast with the Xmen

Chapter 4  
  
I awoke a few hours later to a loud, persistent knocking on the hall door. I buried my head under my pillow, muttering several choice words about a certain very rude person's questionable parentage and sexual orientation.  
  
The pounding came again, muffled but still very audible. "Whaaaat?!?" I moaned angrily, projecting my considerable irritation at the asshole on the other side of the door.   
  
It didn't faze him. –BANG, BANG- "Vixen? It's me!" Logan's voice filtered through the fabric encased heap of goose feathers covering my ears. Oooh, and he had coffee, judging from the tantalizing scent of Colombian roast I now picked up wafting under the door.  
  
I threw my pillow aside and rolled to my feet. Eyes still half closed, I staggered to the door, threw the bolt and then went and resumed my previous position: face down on the bed.  
  
"Jesus, you're a crabass in the morning," Logan observed wryly, with a complete lack of irritation. "We'd probably kill each other if we ever woke up together." I raised my left hand and popped the middle finger at him, inducing a low chuckle.  
  
The coffee was winning me over, though. The rich aroma enticed me enough to sit up and take the mug Logan offered. "Thanks," I mumbled grudgingly. Sipping carefully, I looked up at Logan in surprise and asked, "How'd you know?" indicating my cup of black-with-sugar, which was exactly how I liked it. He just arched an eyebrow at me and said nothing.  
  
A few more swallows and I was caffienated enough to get moving. A quick splash of water to my face, a hasty swipe at my curls with the thoughtfully provided hairbrush, and we were heading downstairs to the dining hall.  
  
Armed with a bowl of Grape-nuts and a second cup of coffee, I followed Logan through the maze of tables. Several curious heads turned to look as we passed, wondering who Wolverine's new friend was. One particularly intense stare was coming from a striking young lady with a shock of pure white hair running from the peak of her forehead, in sharp contrast to the rest of her thick chestnut tresses. I gave her as friendly a smile as I could muster this early in the morning. She started guiltily and smiled back, quickly turning again to her friends.  
  
We found two empty seats at what turned out to be the main table. Jean Grey was finishing her orange juice and greeted us warmly. "Good morning, you two. How did you sleep, Brianna?" I could sense her amusement as she took in my appearance, particularly the fact that I was wearing Logan's shirt.  
  
"Like a rock, Doc, " I replied with a grin. I sent Jean a quick mental flash, the empathic equivalent of a Pretty cool, hey? We both laughed out loud, and somehow I knew the foundation of a solid friendship had been formed.  
  
"Girl talk," Logan grumbled, and planted himself and his breakfast tray across the table from Dr. Grey. I plopped down next to him and then first took note of the others at the table.  
  
"Brianna, this is Scott Summers, my fiancé." Jean introduced me to the good-looking, clean-shaven man sitting next to her. He was wearing a really odd pair of sunglasses although we were indoors, the lenses ruby red and opaque.  
  
"Hi," I said meekly, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation. What was I doing here? Why should these people give a rat's ass about me? Then Logan's hand was on my knee, giving me a reassuring squeeze. There was nothing suggestive about the gesture, but his touch sent a tingle up my thigh, nonetheless. I smiled inwardly at him in return, grateful for his presence.  
  
Scott gave me a polite, unsmiling nod. "Nice to meet you. I understand you and Logan had a run in with Sabertooth last night."  
  
"Are you alright, my dear?" I thought I felt a crackle of electricity in the air as a coffee-skinned beauty with snow white hair addressed me in concern. "Sabertooth is quite a formidable adversary."  
  
Jean introduced the striking woman as Ororo Munroe. I shook her hand, casting a sideways glance at Logan. Indignation rolled off of him in waves, but he kept it easily hidden from the rest of the table. Amused, I replied, "Of course, I'm fine. I had the Wolverine fighting for me."  
  
"You're no slouch yourself, Vixen," Logan admitted into his plate of Canadian bacon and eggs. The corner of his mouth curled in a slight, intimate smile only I could see.  
  
I blushed, absurdly pleased by the unexpected half-compliment. "Uh…thanks." Our eyes met, and the heat in my face deepened. That intense gaze sent all kinds of thrills racing through my nerves.  
  
"I hate to break up your mutual admiration society here," Scott spoke rather sharply, "but what exactly happened last night, Logan?"  
  
My eyes widened in shock, impressed that Scott had the nerve to talk to Logan that way. I looked quickly at Jean, who just shook her head and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Men, she mouthed silently, and I snorted in amusement.   
  
"Well, I was out at the Barley Pop and Vixen happened to be singin'." Logan leaned back easily in his chair, swallowing his mouthful of eggs. I could sense his intense dislike for Scott, but also knew he held a grudging admiration for the younger man, as well. "I bought her a drink, we talked a little and I found out she was a mutant." Logan fixed Scott with a stare that brooked no comment in regards to our "meeting". I had the feeling Mr. Summers did not drink frequently, nor did he put much stock in those who did. "Sabertooth showed up just as Vixen was finishing her last set," Logan continued, "and it was pretty obvious what he was after. So when the lady left the bar for the night, I tailed her. Creed was waitin' for her near her motel."  
  
My jaw dropped in shock. "I didn't see him at the bar, OR smell him," I interjected.  
  
"Well, he wouldn't just belly up to the bar now, would he?" Logan retorted. "Creed knows how to keep from being spotted when he's stalkin' someone."  
  
I shuddered involuntarily at the thought of being that vile creature's prey. Sabertooth terrified me more deeply that I had ever been in my life. The brief glimpse I'd had of his intentions for me on that cold, hard sidewalk had left me with the impression of pure evil and no mercy in that dark soul. My hands began to tremble violently, and suddenly the coffee mug I was holding exploded. Hot liquid and ceramic shards sprayed in every direction. Logan's arm shot out to keep me from falling out of my chair and almost missed. He got a hold of my wrist just in time to keep the side of my face from hitting the table's edge.   
  
My brain waves felt like they were short circuiting. That strange surge of energy Logan and I had experienced at the bar the night before had just hit me again, this time leaving me clutching my head and desperately trying not to vomit.  
  
"Brianna? Are you all right?" Jean knelt beside my chair and peered at me anxiously. I could feel her gentle presence in my mind, like a psychic Dramamine, calming the whirlpool of emotions. I took a shaky breath and tried to smile, weakly. "Anyone get the number of that truck?"  
  
Jean explored a bit further, lightly soothing any spots of disharmony she encountered. Satisfied that there was no neurological damage, she withdrew her mental connection and smiled reassuringly. Standing, she asked, with medical detachment, "Has this ever happened before?"  
  
"Last night," Logan immediately replied, drawing sudden, curious glances from Ororo and Scott, who were busy cleaning up the remains of my morning coffee. "Almost knocked us both off our feet." His worry echoed in my mind, along with a touch of amusement, telling me he remembered ALL the details of our encounter the previous evening. My face flamed crimson, as if I'd just eaten a habanero pepper.  
  
"Um, yeah, last night," I mumbled, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of the parquet floor. "Never before that, though. That I can remember, anyway."  
  
"What could cause something like this?" Scott asked, looking from me to Jean and back again.  
  
Dr. Grey seemed puzzled. "It could have something to do with her empathic mutation," she mused, "but I'd rather have the Professor do any further investigating."  
  
"The sooner the better," I concurred. "This is starting to bug the hell out of me."  
  
It wasn't until we rose to go that I realized Logan was still holding my hand. 


	6. A Seed of Hope

Chapter 6  
  
The Professor removed his fingers from my temples and sat back, puzzled and thoughtful.  
  
"I don't detect anything unusual now, Brianna, but this phenomenon is definitely something we'll want to explore further." Professor Xavier moved silently into view at the side of the sofa and offered a hand to help me sit up. I felt strangely relaxed after our mental contact, like I had just had a really deep massage.  
  
"I've always had good control over my empathy, never really had to think about it much," I mused. "Since I met Wolverine it seems like my power's gone haywire."  
  
My befuddled expression brought a smile to the Professor's face. "Logan IS a rather...intense individual," he chuckled. I rolled my eyes and grinned in response. Xavier had quite the gift for understatement. "Now then," he continued, "Why don't you tell me about yourself, Brianna?"  
  
"Didn't you find everything you wanted while you were bumping around in here?" I tapped my skull lightly.  
  
The Professor shook his head. "It would be very easy to do so, but I believe in using your gifts responsibly. I don not pry into anyone's personal thoughts. Unless I am given permission, of course."  
  
How much did I actually want to tell this guy? My memory had holes like Swiss cheese, dark places I was afraid to go to in my own mind. Plus I still wasn't completely convinced this whole scenario was on the up and up, and if being on the road for so long had taught me anything, it was mistrust. "Um, OK...what do you want to know?" I hedged, suddenly wary.  
  
"Anything you are comfortable telling me," Xavier replied, "I will not pressure you into revealing more than you are willing."  
  
I want to help you, Brianna. Trust me.   
  
Startled, I realized I was hearing the Professor's voice in my head, and it was a very unique sensation, indeed. A direct telepathic communication is much more layered and complex than an empathic one. I could sense the meaning behind the words as well as the feelings. Professor Xavier held a very strong belief in helping all of mankind. He was a true humanitarian with a deep sense of honor and respect for all life, mutant or otherwise.  
  
I allowed a seed of hopefulness to take root for the first time in years. Here was a place I might actually belong, with people that would accept me. Brianna Hastings could show her true face and not feel like a subhuman freak.  
  
And maybe, just maybe, she could stop running from a past she could hardly remember.  
  
I looked into the Professor's understanding eyes, and tears welled up, unbidden, in my own. The tough façade I wore as Vixen cracked and a desperate loneliness washed over me. "I...I just want to be safe!" I choked out, trying vainly to keep the sobs at bay. All the years of moving from town to town, never allowing people to get close, too afraid to trust anyone, had left me numb to real emotional contact, and I was unprepared for the onslaught of raw pain.  
  
Suddenly, Logan's anger roared through my head, followed seconds later by the Wolverine himself bursting through the study doors, almost knocking them off the hinges. He strode quickly to the sofa and positioned himself between me and Professor Xavier, glowering down at the older man like a bird of prey ready to strike. "What the hell did you do?" Logan growled, ready to slice Xavier in half.  
  
The Professor returned the threatening stare calmly, saying nothing. I clutched Logan's arm to get his attention.  
  
"I'm fine, Wolverine. Really, I'm...fine." My voice wavered a bit as fresh tears rolled down my face.  
  
Logan crouched to meet my eyes, searching for assurance that I wasn't injured, physically or otherwise. I gave him a mental thumbs-up and smiled as I felt his relief bloom in my mind, a wonderful comforting warmth. Logan settled his powerful bulk onto the sofa, draping a proprietary arm over my shoulders. He wasn't going to leave me alone again. Instinctively I drew closer, resting my head against his collarbone, my sobs dissipating as I was infused by Logan's strength and fierce protectiveness. The steady reassuring beat of his heart echoed under my ear, calming my raw nerves. I closed my eyes in gratitude and breathed in Logan's pervasive scent. God, I could stay here forever, I thought. I just wanted to burrow in under the solacing weight of his arm and be petted and soothed like a little kitten.  
  
Like Logan was doing right now. His furry cheek was pressed against the top of my head, his large warm hand rhythmically smoothing my wayward curls behind my ear.  
  
"If you start purring, I'm outta here." Logan's voice rumbled with amusement.  
  
I gave a grunt of indignation and sat up quickly, but at the same time was grateful that the mood in the room had lightened somewhat. The professor watched the whole exchange with interest, observing first hand the puzzling empathic link that had developed between Logan and me.  
  
"Brianna, I would like you to stay with us for a while. You'll be safe here while we find out what Magneto wants with you, and..." here Xavier cast a glance at Logan, "I believe you'll both find some of the answers you need."  
  
The idea that Logan and I might have a common past had honestly never occurred to me. That might explain, in part at least, why we had become so close, so quickly. Another thought struck me, one that left me more than a little flushed. Had we been lovers in our previous lives? Was that vision of our passionate embrace a slice of a forgotten memory? Christ, you'd think I'd remember THAT, I chided myself silently. Stealing a quick glance at Logan, I knew he was just as surprised by the idea as I was, and just as intrigued.  
  
*********  
  
Logan stared intently at Brianna, trying vainly to summon up some shred of memory that linked him with this beguiling woman. He wanted nothing more than for her to stay at the mansion, where he could keep her safe and figure out why she was so important to him. On the other hand, it irritated him immensely that she got under his skin like she did, and that he (the WOLVERINE, for God's sake) had no control over his response to her presence. Logan felt her in his head constantly. Unlike Jean's purposeful telepathic communication, controlled and precise, Brianna's emotions streamed into his mind unbidden and erratic, but not entirely unwelcome.  
  
A loner by nature, and often by necessity, it gave him an odd sense of fulfillment to be this intimately connected with someone else. Logan smiled at some of the things that had been running through both his and Brianna's mind since they met. This girl could really give me a run for my money, he mused.  
  
"Hello? Is anyone in there?" Brianna waved a hand in front of Logan's face, grinning.  
  
"Huh? Oh, sorry." He was embarrassed that he had been caught gathering wool in front of the Professor. "What did you say?"  
  
Brianna gave him such a brilliant smile, he felt his heart would burst. "I said, I think I'll stick around. This place is kind of growing on me." Logan looked into her sparkling hazel eyes, and knew HE was the reason she was staying. 


	7. Power Unleashed

Chapter 7  
  
"Stay behind me." Logan quickly scanned the hallway and, seeing no one, unsheathed one set of claws and turned the key in the lock of my motel room door. I kept my eyes and nose trained on the dimly lit corridor, as a sudden rush of apprehension made me wonder WHY I had thought this was a good idea.  
  
I had been adamant with Professor Xavier about doing my gig at the Barley Pop Pub tonight. I wasn't going to let this Magneto character keep me from singing, from doing the only thing that kept me from cashing my chips in and giving up on life. Xavier had been equally adamant about the danger in which I was placing myself. The argument had gone on for several minutes, both verbally and mentally, until the Professor relented, realizing he had met someone that was as stubborn and bull-headed as the Wolverine. When he advised that I at least have one of the X-men go with me, there really had been no question as to who would be my escort.  
  
I had been just as stubborn about getting my stuff out of my motel room before we headed to the bar, so here we were, Logan and I, trying to retrieve my meager belongings without running into trouble. As I would quickly learn, trouble seemed to follow this guy like an over eager dog.  
  
"They're here," Logan grunted, and before I could say, "Who?" He shoved me back against the wall with one arm and aimed a ferocious kick at the flimsy plywood door. Splinters flew everywhere as he charged into the room, roaring. I heard the sounds of a scuffle, and muttered expletives as whoever "they" were tried to fend off Wolverine's attack. Oooh, he was pissed. I peeled myself off the wall and stumbled into the room, only to be met with a blue (BLUE?) foot to my midsection. My breath woofed out of me, and I doubled over, noting that the blue foot was connected to an equally blue leg. An arm, obviously belonging to my cyanotic assailant, snaked around my throat and pulled me upright. The sight that met my eyes boggled my already befuddled mind.  
  
Logan was hovering about three feet off the floor, spread-eagled, like he was tethered to an invisible torture rack. A rather distinguished looking man with silver hair stood by the window, one arm raised offhandedly in Logan's direction. "You never learn, do you?" the older man scoffed, making Logan growl low in his throat.  
  
"Magneto." I knew this was the madman the Professor had warned me about. Seeing how easily he could render Wolverine helpless simultaneously scared and infuriated me. My voice came out rough and angry, surprising even me. "What the hell do you want with me?"  
  
"Ah, my reputation precedes me," Magneto bowed mockingly in my direction. "My dear, I was hoping to convince you to join my cause. Charles really is very selfish. What does he need with two adamantium-laced assassins?"  
  
********************  
  
Eric Lensherr, a.k.a. Magneto, was a master of psychological manipulation, without the help of any mutation. He prided himself on the fact that, with just a few well-chosen words, he was able to influence someone's thoughts and actions for whatever purpose he, Lensherr, desired.  
  
He could see that his comment, aimed mostly at the young lady, was having just the effect he wished. Confusion and self-doubt flashed in Vixen's eyes, despite the show of bravado she made, and she had stopped struggling in Mystique's grip. "What are you talking about?" the angry young mutant growled, her eyes darting to Wolverine constantly, as if for support.  
  
Magneto clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. "Charles is still such an optimist. He's hoping that you will figure things out on your own, poor girl. But as Wolverine can attest, the truth about your past is very slow in surfacing without help. Do you ever wonder who gave you those claws, or what you were intended to do with them?"  
  
Vixen became very still, her expression wary. "The Professor said he'd help me," she spoke with conviction, "and I know he meant it." Magneto could see fierce anger slowly overcoming the confusion on Brianna's face. "And I also know that you are a snake and prey on people's insecurities for your own purpose. If you thought you could sway me that easily, you sure picked the wrong mutant, bub." Her last words were spoken with anger worthy of Wolverine himself. Vixen's nostrils flared and her eyes flashed dangerously. Too late, Magneto realized that he had underestimated this young woman. With a self-satisfied, wild grin, Brianna unsheathed her full set of claws, driving all six deadly adamantium blades into Mystique's thighs. The shapeshifter, who had relaxed her hold on Brianna, dropped to the floor screaming in pain. Vixen lunged at Magneto, roaring, only to be brought up short by a wave of Lensherr's hand. He smiled, convinced that he now had complete control over both Vixen and Wolverine. He was wrong.  
  
********  
  
I could feel the anger growing, being fed by Logan's rage and frustration as well. Once again, that surge of power built up inside me but this time I welcomed it. Energy coursed up from my gut, filling my mind with flashes of black and red. I let loose with a primal scream and physically felt the power bursting from my psyche. Magneto was catapulted backward into the wall as if he had been hit with an invisible mortar shell. Logan fell to the floor, freed from the magnetic field, but still buffeted by my psychic battering ram. I too, collapsed, the drain of energy finally ending the onslaught of anger. Dazed, I sat staring at Magneto's crumpled form until Logan approached and helped me to my feet. He was completely amazed by and absurdly proud of what I had just done. "Well, THAT was different," I commented dryly, and Logan snorted laughter through his nose.  
  
"You are something else, darlin'," he spoke warmly, and without warning, bent his head to capture my lips in a brief, but intense kiss. Logan's touch was so electrifying, I literally felt the hair standing up on my arms.  
  
"Whoa," I breathed in wonder as our lips parted. We stood looking at each other for a long moment, then I shook my head, trying to clear the haze in my brain. I strode quickly to the closet to collect my duffel bags, and Logan and I beat a hasty retreat before the cops showed up. As we made our way down the back stairway to where his motorcycle was parked, I ruminated on the sparks that had flown when we kissed and the emotions that had flooded my mind. I had definitely felt...love, whether or not Logan realized it. 


	8. Soul Mates

Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews. I hope I can keep the story going to your expectations!

Chapter 8

An hour later I stood in my dressing room, more commonly known as the ladies' bathroom, at the Barley Pop Pub, putting the final touches on my stage outfit. The focused, intense reflection that looked back at me from the mirror gave away none of the confusion that I was feeling, none of the turmoil that was making me want to duck out the back door of this dive and RUN.

In the past twenty-four hours, I had met a man that wanted to give me a chance at leading a meaningful life and one that I could see myself living that life with. I had been assaulted, abducted, poked, prodded and wrung out like an emotional dishrag.

I was absurdly happy.

But this encounter with Magneto made me question my decision to stay at Xavier's. Did I really want to get tangled up in this mutant war? There were things going on here that I didn't even know if I WANTED to understand. I had been doing very well at living off the grid for my whole adult life, and staying out of people's way. Did I want to give up my freedom, my ability to come and go as I pleased, all for…

What? Security and a chance to find out what happened to you? A real home and real friends? my sarcastic inner voice piped up. _Ooh, yeah, that would be awful._

I growled inwardly and jammed my well-worn cowboy hat onto my head. Whatever I decided, my first priority was to get out there and give the crowd what they were here for, a hell of a show.

* * *

Logan prowled the bar uneasily, beer in hand, his attention divided between scouting for trouble and trying to sort through the confusion in his head. Most of it was coming from the direction of the bathroom, where Vixen was getting ready…to what? Run? Sing? Throw up? One second she was happy, the next scared and angry. It was all a frustrating jumble.

Logan slammed his bottle of Molson's down hard, with a low snort of exasperation. She was making his head hurt. He had enough crap of his own to sort through; he sure as hell didn't need Brianna's equally screwed-up psyche banging around in his brain like this.

He was beginning to regret ever having picked her up. He had just been out looking for a little diversion, someone to take his mind off a certain redhead, and the fact that she had chosen ol' One Eye over him. It was a great bruise to his ego. Logan ALWAYS won the girl. But now he was stuck with one that was just as confused, stubborn and bull headed as him, and he had no idea what he was going to do about it. Vixen sure was easy on the eyes, though. Logan thought about her sparkling hazel eyes, the lush waves of auburn hair that fell on her shoulders, the warm feeling of her pressed up against his back on the motorcycle…._Woah, down boy_, he cautioned himself, _Focus, focus…_

Brianna came banging out of the ladies' room, a look of dark anger on her face. She stomped over to the bar and stopped toe to toe with Logan, forcing him to step back and look down into her blazing eyes. _She was furious._ "Listen, buddy, I didn't ask you to haul me off to that freak show you call home, and I sure as hell don't expect you to take care of me like I'm some helpless kid. As for anything else you have in mind…" She trailed off, noting that Wolverine was staring at her chest in utter amazement. "Excuse me? Eyes up, friend." Then Brianna realized he was focused on the long chain she wore around her neck. "What? It's just my good luck charm." She laughed without a trace of humor. " Too bad I didn't wear it last night."

Logan reached out and picked up the dull metal dog tag that hung from Brianna's chain. VIXEN, it read, and there was a row of numbers that Logan found achingly familiar. He slowly drew his own well worn dog tag out from inside his T-shirt, and held it up next to it's twin. He and Brianna both stared, disbelieving, as one more mystery was added to their tumultuous relationship.

The numbers were one digit apart.

"We need to have a LONG talk," Logan muttered.

* * *

"I really don't have time for this right now," I protested uselessly as Logan directed me to a dimly lit booth in the corner of the room. His arm around my shoulders was as un-giving as a steel girder.

"Make time," was his blunt reply as he pushed me onto the tacky vinyl seat and slid in right next to me, effectively cutting off any means of escape. I bristled at Logan's tone of voice, but any angry retort I had died on my lips when I saw the haunted look in his usually inscrutable eyes. He looked down at the scarred tabletop for a moment, then asked in a strained voice, "Do you...do you have nightmares? About...what happened?" Logan clenched a fist and I could just make out the keen edges of his adamantium claws under the skin of his forearm.

Without thinking, I took his large warm hands in mine and squeezed them tight. Our already strong empathic link opened even further, and I gasped as I realized Logan was, consciously or unconsciously, laying his soul bare to me. I felt utter rage and frustration, anger toward the people who had taken his life and his memory, and self-loathing for himself, the feral creature that lurked just below the surface of his psyche. I shared the heart-wrenching pain of losing true love and contentment and the despair and emptiness that followed. And the worst part, what made my heart ache for him, was that he couldn't remember why he felt these things. To have to live with such a burden…

A harsh sob escaped my throat as hot, painful tears rolled down my cheeks. "Oh, God," I choked out and clasped my head in my hands. Such raw, strong emotion was too much for me to handle, and it became a great physical agony, slicing through my skull like a knife. I curled myself around the pain, trying to control it, and then Logan had me in his arms. He held me fiercely, as if trying to absorb some of the hurt himself.

"I'm sorry," Logan whispered hoarsely into my hair. "Brianna, darlin'…". I realized he was crying.

After a minute, I was able to subdue the lingering ache in my head and sat up, albeit reluctantly. No conversation was necessary between us. One look at Logan's eyes and I knew that he had seen into my mind as well, found all of the hurt, the betrayal, the loneliness and terror that were Vixen's life. What had passed between us was too extraordinary for mere words, a more intimate thing than could ever be defined. But now I knew with every fiber of my being that I could never leave Xavier's, or Logan, my soul mate.


	9. Home

**Chapter 9--Home**

"How can you see into my eyes  
like open doors?  
Leading you down into my core  
Where I've become so numb?  
Without a soul  
My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold  
Until you find it there  
And lead me back….  
Home."

Evanescence—"Bring Me to Life"  
Copyright 2003 Wind Up Entertainment, Inc.

The ride back to the mansion was quiet and full of promise. Brianna kept her arms wrapped securely around Logan's waist, resting her head on his back. He could almost feel her humming with contentment, and thought his heart would burst. She had seen into his soul, found the animal within, and wanted to be with him anyway. And she had laid bare her emotions, letting him into a place she fiercely protected from others. That kind of trust and openness was not something Logan was accustomed to. They were both balanced on the edge of something new and wonderful, and he'd be damned if he was going to let anything take Brianna away from him. _Not this time_, Logan thought with a savagery that surprised even him. His heart had been ripped from him before, and the tragedy was that he didn't even know whom he was mourning. He would not let that happen again.

"We're home," Brianna whispered sleepily as they passed through the heavy wrought iron gates of the school grounds. Logan thought that "home" had never had such a sweet sound to it. Moonlight bathed the looming stone mansion in soft blue, making it appear as an apparition in the late August night. A smile found its way to Logan's lips. Could the Wolverine really be this happy? As he and Brianna made their way to the front door, arms securely around each other, he thought wryly, _It's about damn time.  
_

* * *

We had just stepped into the main hall, looking around cautiously like two teenagers out after curfew, when we were assaulted by a demon, or so was my first impression. There was a peculiar BAMF sound over our heads, the stink of sulfur, and I found myself being shoved unceremoniously to the marble floor.

"Can't you use the door like the rest of us, Wagner?" Logan's voice was harsh, but completely without surprise.

"I'm very sorry, _fraulein_," a soft German voice said earnestly and then I was being helped to my feet by very strong blue hands which, instead of the mandatory five digits, had three. I rose and came face to face with the Devil himself. Glowing yellow eyes stood out in a face so indigo as to be almost black, and was that a TAIL?

"I know I shouldn't be surprised by ANYTHING around here," I said as I brushed myself off, "But who the hell are you?"

Logan rolled his eyes and groaned. Our companion drew himself up to full height and with a flourish announced, "I am Kurt Wagner, but in the Munich circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler!"

I grinned broadly at his obvious pride. Shaking his hand, I replied, "_Guten Abend, Herr Wagner._ I'm Brianna Hastings, but in the music industry, I am known as…. Vixen." I bowed ceremoniously. I heard Logan mutter, "God, don't encourage him…"

I liked Kurt Wagner immediately. His gentle soul and soft manner were very apparent, even to a non-empath. After explaining to Logan that he and "Cyclops" had been out talking to a Dr. McCoy, trying to convince him to "join the team", Kurt bid us a _guten nacht _and vanished in a puff of inky smoke. Wide eyed, I turned to Logan, who explained, "Teleporter."

"Ah."

We stood silently for a moment, suddenly unsure of what to do next. "Are you hungry?" we both blurted at the same time, then laughed, the awkwardness gone. Logan took my hand and said, "Let's raid the refrigerator."

"What was Kurt talking about?" I asked as we made our way through the cavernous halls.

As comfortable as I was with Logan and the others I had met, it struck me that there was so much I didn't know about Xavier's school.

Logan thought for a second. "I don't know how much I can tell you. This is all the Professor's project. I'm just along for the ride."

"Oh, don't give me that," I replied. "You'd give your life for this place, and these people."

Logan stopped short and gave me a hard look, making me acutely aware that I might have overstepped my bounds just a little bit. "It's not my fault," I said defensively, scowling back at him. "It's not like I WANT to know what's going on in that metal skull of yours."

"No, you're right." Logan's voice was soft. "It's just not something I'm used to admitting to anyone. But you…I want you to know everything. Why?" He turned and closed the small distance between us. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair off my forehead, looking so intently into my eyes that I thought my heart would stop. We both felt the electricity in the air, and knew that this was THE moment. Logan bent his head to mine and our first real kiss was one to shake the earth. Our lips melded together, each of us understanding that there was no second-guessing these feelings between us. I slid my arms up around Logan's shoulders and pressed my lips even harder against his, letting all my desire and longing flow through our minds. All of the sexual tension that had been building up between us was threatening to explode. Logan tore his lips from mine and stared down at me, utter lust and yearning making his hazel eyes flash silver. "My God, Bree," he said thickly.

My voice was equally rough. "What, you've never kissed an empath before?" I chided gently. I ran a hand around the smooth curve of his neck and twined my fingers in the abundant mass of luxurious hair at the back of his head. "It gets even better, you know." I ignored the uneasy feeling that was nagging my subconcious.

* * *

It took all of Logan's self control to keep from throwing Brianna over his shoulder and finding the nearest unoccupied room. He could feel the feral lust beginning to boil in his veins. He wanted her, badly, but his rational human mind told him that the bond they had was fragile and acting on purely animalistic hunger right now would destroy what they had already shared. With great effort and regret, he disentangled himself from Brianna's embrace, sensing that she had come to the same realization. They exchanged a long look, full of promise and passion. _Soon._

Brianna whispered, with a smile, "I'm still hungry. What kind of date are you?"


	10. Nightmares & a New Beginning

Chapter 10

I woke up roaring, claws out and slashing wildly at the dark figure hovering over me. The jolt of metal against metal sent a shock up my arm and stopped my swing mid-arc, but I was still caught up in the nightmare. _Kill the bastards!_ My mind screamed, although I had no memory of whom I was fighting against, except the stranger leaning over me. In blind fury, I struck out with my other hand only to be met again with jarring opposition and a loud metallic CHANK! The intruder now had control of both my fists, his own set of gleaming adamantium blades crossed with mine.

What?!?!

I sat bolt upright in bed, bringing my face within inches of my adversary's. His nostrils were flaring widely, shadowed eyes lowered and flashing dangerously. Now fully awake, my pulse was still racing. _What the hell is going on? Where am I? Who the hell IS this guy? _My thoughts were in utter chaos. The intruder's fiery eyes locked with my terrified stare, and suddenly I could feel him in my head, calming me, bringing me down from my panic state.

"Logan!" Recognition hit me full force. With great relief I withdrew my claws and realized I was in my bed at Xavier's. The room was pitch black except for the rectangle of soft light that shone through the open door from Logan's room. He sat on the edge of the mattress, clad in nothing but a pair of jeans and looking for all the world like an irritated grizzly bear. "I woke you up, huh?" I asked sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I don't sleep much anyway," Logan replied, claws already retracted, his fingers running through his sleep-tousled hair. He fixed me with a puzzled look. "You said you didn't have the nightmares."

"I don't! At least, not until tonight." In the seven days I'd been at the mansion, Logan and I had spent almost as many nights in this same situation, but usually I was hovering over _his_ bed as he thrashed about in the throes of a terrible dream. Tonight was the first time he had had to come and quiet me. Was this was an indication of long-buried memories starting to surface, or was our empathic connection so strong that I was experiencing Logan's nightmares as my own? Both thoughts were worrisome, but the second option made me a bit queasy. _You can't get THAT involved! _my self-protective inner voice warned, but it was very faint as Logan's strong arm found its way around my waist and drew me next to him. As always, it seemed only natural to rest my head on his broad, warm shoulder and feel safe. We sat this way, in silent communion, until the sun began to lighten my curtains.

* * *

"Alright, Brianna, we'll go over what we covered last time," Professor Xavier instructed. "But this will be another non-Logan session." He gave a small, secretive smile.

The day after I had discovered my new power, the physical force that had manifested itself in the encounter with Magneto, Xavier and I had spent the first of many hours figuring out exactly how it happened and what I could do to control and use it. At one point, the Professor had had me sit on the floor and try thinking of something very pleasant, to see if different emotions produced different types of physical energy. I closed my eyes and, of course, the first thing that came to mind was the Wolverine. I could feel myself grinning like a silly schoolgirl as I thought of riding behind him on the bike, how his sideburns scratched softly when we stole kisses in the hall…

"Well, I must say I've never seen Logan have THAT kind of effect on anyone," Professor Xavier's voice broke through my reverie. My eyes popped open to find myself hovering about three feet off the floor, floating like a genie in the old stories. Concentration broken, I fell, landing unceremoniously on my rear end.

"How'd you know what I was thinking about?" I said irritably, refusing to rub my sore behind, even though it hurt like hell. My eyes narrowed. "You weren't reading my mind, were you?"

"My dear," Xavier had smiled, "It would have been less obvious if you had a neon sign attached to your head." This was the first of several incidents that prompted the Professor to admonish me NOT to think of Logan unless instructed to do so. We had discovered that fear, anger and determination produced the strongest energies, while softer emotions like joy and love manifested themselves more delicately. Happiness, for example, caused me to glow from inside like a dim light bulb. Of course, adding thoughts of Logan to the mix amped the brightness up to near halogen strength. I had almost blinded the Professor one day, much to my chagrin. That was an odd sensation, indeed. It felt like the deepest possible blush you could ever experience, times ten.

The amusement that rang in his mind now made me growl, "Could we just forget about that, PLEASE?" My irritation was enough that I could give his wheelchair a little mental shove. Professor Xavier seemed pleased by my reaction. I spent the next hour pushing things around the room and working on the subtleties that let me hold an object in place without repelling it. It was an odd, _bending _sort of sensation, almost like containing my emotions in a Lucite bubble.

A soft knock came at the door, announcing the afternoon physics class. I excused myself as a couple students, one with shockingly blue hair, poked their heads in the big double doors to the Professor's study. Xavier stopped me with a hand on my forearm. "Brianna, I believe your unique mutation would be a great asset to our cause, and I would like to extend the offer to you to become an X-man."

My brain froze up. Be one of the X-men? I couldn't. _I could. _I'd be stuck here. _I'd have a home. _I don't want to worry about anyone but Vixen. _There are people here that care about me. _I'm just a freakin' mutant. _I could actually do some good for a change. _I stared at Xavier and couldn't say a word.

"You don't have to give me your answer right now, think about it for a little while. But, please, _do_ think about it?" he calmly requested. "I believe you belong with our family."

Family. Something I'd been without, and desperately searching for, for more years than I could remember. Could I really hope to find a home here, and belonging? I thought of Logan, could feel him being angry at _something, _as always, and the idea of being apart from him now sickened me. This was going to be the hardest decision I'd ever made.


	11. Disturbing Development

**Chapter 11**

Logan found Brianna later that afternoon, camped out on top of the hay bales in the barn, right where he knew she'd be. The stacks formed quiet alcoves, perfect for relaxing and collecting one's thoughts. He figured she had a lot to think about.

"Hey, Vix." Logan hauled himself off the top of the ladder that was propped against the wall of hay bales. She had moved a single bale out, using it as a backrest in her fragrant hideaway.

"Hey, Wolvie." It irritated Logan to no end when Vixen called him that, which was precisely why she did it. A soft growl from him brought a giggle in response. He'd never met such a perplexing woman.

Brianna grinned broadly as he threw himself down on the hay next to her and stretched, joints popping loudly. He groaned with pleasure and folded his arms behind his head, looking like a large, contented panther. "You're very pleased with yourself," Brianna remarked.

"Beat the crap outta Cyke in the Danger Room," was Wolverine's smug reply. "He didn't stand a chance."

They fell into a companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts for a change. Logan caught waves of confusion from Brianna, but he didn't press her with any questions. She would tell him about the Professor's request in her own time. He hoped.

* * *

For once, I wished that Logan would leave me alone. The decision I had to make was hard enough, without his presence influencing me. I fought to ignore him, but it was useless. Like iron shavings to a magnet, my eyes were drawn to him and took in the strong muscular lines of his legs and torso, quite apparent even under the gray sweatpants and jacket he was wearing. The zipper on the jacket was open just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of well-defined chest and the silky hair that made my fingers tingle from wanting to touch it. The air of unbridled sexuality that rolled off of him made it very difficult to go five minutes without thinking of being crushed in those powerful arms and thoroughly ravaged by those soft, sensuous lips.

"Window shopping again, Vix? Or do you plan on taking a test drive this time?" Logan was looking at me, a cocky smile playing across the lips in question, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

"Huh? Oh, hell." I grumbled. "You weren't supposed to read that. Get outta my head."

"When your eyes glaze over like that, and you mouth's hangin' open, I don't need to read your mind, darlin'," he responded, the smirk growing wider at my discomfort. Scowling, I swung a punch at the chiseled abdomen I'd just been admiring. Logan caught my fist easily and pulled me to himself, his other arm snaking around my waist, securing me quite firmly to his chest. My fingers involuntarily curled themselves into the soft mat of chest hair I'd been longing to feel. Logan gently stroked my captive fist with his large calloused thumb, placing a soft kiss between each knuckle where my claws were safely sheathed. When he looked at me, the inscrutable expression he usually wore was gone, replaced by longing and something too powerful to define. "Are you gonna take Charlie up on his offer?" Hs voice was low and rough with emotion. "Or are you planning on running again?"

My own voice sounded strange to me as I stammered, "I…I…I don't know." The hand on my back was making slow sensuous circles, creating turmoil with my train of thought. "How'd you know about that, anyway?" I made a feeble attempt to escape Logan's unwavering embrace.

"It was a team decision. Jean and I talked about it, and Storm and Nightcrawler agreed it was a good idea. Cyclops, well, he's just an ass." He was calling the X-men by their codenames, like I was already one of them. Too much pressure. There was no way I could make a rational decision with…_God, I wish he would…_ My empathic energy revved up and I discovered a new manifestation. Confusion caused whirlwinds of air that sent loose hay swirling in all directions around us. Logan looked around in amusement. "Things are never dull with you, Vix," he remarked and took advantage of my distraction by drawing me down into a very thorough, extremely sensuous kiss. Fireworks went off in my head, sparks of beautiful color that excited me to my very soul. I gave myself up to the sensation. _I'll think about that tomorrow…_A line from one of my favorite old movies floated through my mind as hands caressed, lips explored and passion came to a full, rapid boil.

Suddenly, a feeling of panic bloomed in my head so strong that it was almost a physical sense. Something was terribly wrong. I tensed, struggling even as Logan continued his amorous assault. I had to get away or… what? All I knew was that the terror was growing, threatening to explode in my mind. Using my empathic energy, I shoved against Logan as hard as I could, sending us both sailing across the hay stacks.

My fists clenched tightly, I battled mightily against the urge to unsheathe my claws and drive them all fully into Logan's chest.


	12. Breakdown

**Chapter 12**

Marie was upset. Just when things were settling into a comfortable, happy routine for her, something always had to gum up the works. She silently fretted and tugged at the shock of pure white hair that grew at her widow's peak as she made her way to the horse stables for her weekly turn at mucking stalls. Her champion, her Wolverine, had found a new girl. True, she herself had a boyfriend, Bobby Drake, who loved her and treated her like a princess, but when someone saves your life…Marie still carried the essence of Logan in her mind from the night she had died and he had sacrificed his own vitality to bring her back. Touching Marie's skin for too long was a death sentence, but Logan had done so willingly, because he promised to take care of her. Now…she came up short just outside the hay barn doors, startled by the sounds of struggle inside. Hay flew everywhere and there was a loud thump as if something had fallen from a great height. Marie darted inside, only to be practically knocked off her feet by Vixen barging past her, the older woman clutching her left arm. Marie thought she saw blood seeping between Vixen's fingers.

A string of muttered expletives drew her attention back to the form on the barn floor. Logan rose to his feet, cursing, wiping blood from a rapidly healing gash in his right shoulder. Marie gasped and rushed to his side, even though she knew first aid was unnecessary. "What happened?" she asked, plucking strands of hay from his shirt before they could become embedded in the knitting flesh.

"Damn woman tried to kill me. Just went completely berserk." Logan's face was dark with anger and confusion. "I've gotta find out what the hell's going on, kid." He brushed past Marie and ran out into the fading afternoon sunlight, stopping only momentarily to test the air for Vixen's scent.

The pretty young mutant stomped her foot in frustration and watched him run off. To everyone else she was Rogue, dangerous but respected. To Logan she was still a kid, and with that Vixen around occupying his every waking moment, she always would be.

* * *

I ran as hard as I could, air burning in my lungs until I came to the woods surrounding the school grounds. The panic was beginning to recede, but the residue still left a sick feeling in my gut. I had wanted to kill Logan, had actually _tried_ to kill him. I crashed through the underbrush, heedless of the thorns and branches that tore at my clothes and skin. Shreds of images winked through my mind, of blood and men, shocked looks and flashing adamantium. More memories? Of what? What kind of person was I? I desperately needed to find out. An exposed tree root caught my ankle, and I tumbled to the ground in a heap. Searing pain shot up my leg and the tears finally came. I sobbed into the dead leaves that covered the ground, long past the time it took for my ankle to repair itself.

* * *

Logan tracked Brianna easily, heightened sense of smell or no. The woman left a trail a mile wide in her frantic flight through the woods. He could feel her anguish and confusion acutely and his heart ached for her. The struggle in the hay barn had been against her will, Logan knew. He had sensed the conflict within Brianna even as she drove her claws into his shoulder. And he could see the panic in her beautiful hazel eyes. All he wanted to do now was find her and offer what comfort he could. The agony of a forgotten past and unknown terror was something Logan was well acquainted with.

He found Brianna crumpled beneath a dead oak, sniffling back the remnants of her tears. Silently, Logan went to his knees beside her and gathered her into his arms, knowing she would not attack now. Brianna clutched him desperately around the waist, burying her head in his chest and breathing in his pervasive scent. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I don't know why…"

"Shhh, shh." Logan quieted her. "It's alright. It wasn't your fault, darlin', I know." He laid his cheek on top of her silky head, and they sat, saying everything without a word. Whatever was happening, whatever the outcome, they would go through it together. To Logan, there was no other option.


	13. Training Day

**Chapter 13**

I swept a low side kick at Rogue's ankles, but the younger woman hopped adroitly over my leg and brought her foot squarely down on my calf. Curling my lip in pain, I reached up and yanked hard on Rogue's thigh, toppling her onto her back. The _snickt! _Of my claws being unsheathed should have warned her, but she attempted to scramble to her feet anyway, even as I planted my knees on either side of her ribcage and brought the razor sharp adamantium to within centimeters of her throat.

"Not bad," Scott Summers walked forward from where he had been observing our scuffle, at the edge of the wrestling mat. "Marie, your reaction time could be a bit faster. Brianna, don't be so quick to bring out the hardware all the time."

I got to my feet, brushing off the dust as I thought darkly of how many different ways I could hurt the man. For the last week he had been on my case, ever since I started training for my shot at being an X-man. I could sense Scott was opposed to the idea and was taking every opportunity to try and discourage me. Jean said it was to make sure I really wanted to do this, but even she knew it was more than that. He didn't want another "Wolverine" on his hands. Of course, all of Scott's pushing only made me more determined to earn my uniform.

I had decided, after that day in the hay barn when I tried to kill Logan, that the best chance I had of finding my past and putting it to rest was to join the X-men. With Xavier's resources and abilities, I could follow up on leads much more easily, and I would have the team's help if I needed it. All I had to do was pass the test.

* * *

Marie gritted her teeth in anger. Would she never be able to get the upper hand on Vixen? When she had been offered a spot on the X-team, she thought she was the only one. But then she found out that she and Vixen were both training at the same time _and _they had to work together! Marie was determined to make the team and prove herself to everyone once and for all, no matter who stood in her way. She had to admit a grudging respect for the older woman, though. Brianna was tough, resourceful and didn't take any crap from anyone. She reminded Marie a lot of Logan, and she couldn't help but like her a little bit.

* * *

Scott was going to do his damnest to make sure Vixen left the mansion even before her final test. The last thing the team needed, hell, the last thing _he _needed, was another renegade, claw-wielding amnesiac to upset the order and authority that Cyclops had with the students and the other X-men. And the fact that Magneto was after her signaled to Scott that there was something more in Vixen's past than he wanted to deal with. The worst thing of all, in Scott's loyal, monogamous mind, was that he found himself looking at her a great deal more than he should, and liking what he saw. Best to get temptation as far away as possible.

The serious young man gave a sigh of frustration. How he was going to get rid of Brianna, when she and Jean had become such good friends, was something else he had to figure out. He spoke sharply. "Alright, we're done for today. Marie, Brianna, same time tomorrow. And don't be late again." Scott's final comment was directed solely at Brianna, even though he knew her tardiness was due to a counseling session with the Professor. Maybe if he just pissed her off enough….

Suddenly, Scott felt himself being lifted off his feet as if by a great invisible hand. His arms were pinned to his sides and he hung uselessly in the air as Brianna approached him, her eyes flashing murder. "Listen, One-Eye, I don't know what your problem is, but I've taken out bigger …" She stopped short, her gaze suddenly blank, then flinched and put her hand to her head. Scott's feet made contact with the floor rather abruptly and he stumbled to regain his balance as Vixen shook her head, muttering to herself, "No, no…I can't…". A look of utter revulsion crossed her face and the sparring dummy that stood guard at the corner of the workout area exploded in a hail of vinyl and stuffing. Brianna crumpled to the floor, her head clasped in her hands, a faint whisper of "No, no…" escaping her lips.

Scott did the first thing that came to mind. Jean! We need you in the gym he called silently to the beautiful doctor as he and Rogue hurried to Vixen's side. She was breathing, and still conscious, Scott saw. Before he could touch her, Logan exploded into the room, all protective fury.

"What the hell is going on?" Wolverine crouched over Brianna's huddled form and fixed the younger man with a glare that would cut diamonds. "Scooter, if you hurt her…"

"No, we were finished." Scott's unreadable gaze never wavered. "She and I were having…words, and she just had some sort of attack."

Jean Grey flew into the room, medi-kit in hand, and took quick assessment of the situation. "Guys, stand back, please." She knelt quickly at Brianna's side. "Bree, can you hear me?"

Vixen raised her head a bit, eyes unfocused and full of tears. She stared at Jean for a moment, and then split the air with an ear shattering scream.


	14. Into the Dark

**Chapter 14**

_Men in military uniforms milled about in a cavernous, dank laboratory, their conversation muted but with an air of excitement. Enlisted men moved among their superiors with trays of champagne. The centerpiece of the room, a large glass tank filled with an unknown solution, glowed green from the various machinery and instrument panels surrounding it._

_"Gentlemen, we are about to begin," announced a man with glasses and a goatee, who seemed to be in charge. A very young Brianna was led into the room by a military policeman at each elbow, her eyes vacant and unblinking. The crowd parted silently as the unresisting subject was guided to the ominous cistern, disrobed and stood passively while the laboratory aides adjusted the platform suspended above it. "As you know, the adamantium will be permanently grafted to her entire skeleton. And," the man added, "we have perfected the biomechanics of the retractable claws, as well." A murmur of approval went through the gathering as the control panels and machinery surrounding the glass tank came to life. _

_FLASH_

_The lighting in the room was dim and erotic, thanks to a diaphanous red scarf draped over the table lamp. Low music was playing on the portable stereo, and a man and woman danced sensuously in the middle of the floor._

"You're my angel, come and save me tonight."

_Brianna sang along softly, smiling as the man nuzzled the side of her neck. The air in the room became electric as they began kissing, softly at first, then more passionately._

"You're my angel, come and make it all ri-i-ight."

_They danced in a tangle of limbs and finally collapsed on the couch, the man's body covering Brianna's completely. Their kisses became more urgent, demanding. Suddenly, a quiet _snikt, _and six metal points erupted from the man's back, blood spreading in thick black petals under the crimson light._

Jean gasped and sat upright, breaking her mental contact with Brianna, who lay sleeping fitfully on the table in the med lab. It had taken quite a considerable dose of sedatives to calm her panicked screaming in the gym, and Logan had had to carry her to the lower level.

He stood at Brianna's bedside holding her hand now, as he had been for the past hour. "What did you see?" he asked anxiously. He could not feel Brianna in his head, and it worried him, a lot more than he wanted to let on. "Jean, what's going on?"

The doctor was disturbed. "I think…" she trailed off, still pondering the images she had seen. "I think her memories are surfacing, and she's…shutting down in defense. The things she's remembering are overwhelming her." Jean looked to the Professor, who nodded in confirmation.

"That is what I sensed, as well. It seems whatever blocks were placed in her psyche are deteriorating. I think perhaps her mutation has something to do with it." Xavier caught the confused look on Logan's face. "Emotion and memory are affected by the same general area of the brain. That area, in Brianna, is altered by her empathic mutation. I think this is what's causing the memory blocks to break down."

"Bastards didn't do their research too well," Logan growled. Medical matters left him feeling so ineffectual and lost. How many times had he wanted to reach into his own head and slice away until he found the past he was looking for? Nightmares were all he had for clues, and now Brianna was lost in the worst of them. Logan preferred threats and dangers that were tangible, things he could fight with his hands, his strength. The sheer frustration of not being able to protect Brianna from the demons in her head made his whole body tremble with barely restrained feral rage.

Scott, who had been silently observing from a dim corner, approached the group. "Logan, why don't you take a break? Jean and…"

"No!" It came out a roar, Logan fixing Scott with a glare of pure hatred. "Get outta here, Summers. You've screwed things up enough!" It took all his self control not to unsheathe his claws and drive them into Scott's midsection.

Cyclops stood his ground. "I'm leaving, too. But I think you might benefit from a round or two in the Danger Room, so you can look at things with a clear head." The two men stood face to face, blazing hazel eyes meeting ruby-quartz shielded ones. "Jean and the Professor will take good care of her, Logan. C'mon."

"There's nothing else you can do for her right now, Logan," Xavier confirmed. "We will notify you if anything else develops." Jeanand I will do our best to bring her back to you, he promised silently. The utter despair that Logan had been trying to conceal from everyone in the room only served to confirm what Xavier had suspected from the moment Brianna had come to the mansion. Wolverine had been reunited with his mate. Even if his conscious mind didn't remember Vixen, his heart did.


	15. Warped Vision

Thank you so much, everyone, for all the great reviews, even after I left you hanging for so long after Chapter 13. I'm glad people are still reading this.

Unfortunately, due to enforcement of copyright laws or such, Vixen will no longer be singing. I have been told so in no uncertain terms by the PTB here at "If you didn't write it, you can't post it." Unless someone has any ideas for getting around this…wink, wink

**Chapter 15**

I backed away from the vision, fumbling to slam the door on the horrible sight of lust and blood and _my claws sticking through Steve's back_. Steve. A random name that surfaced to identify the unfortunate victim in that vaguely remembered room. Who was Steve? Why would I skewer him like brook trout?

A long, dim hallway stretched out in either direction from where I stood staring wild-eyed at the polished black wood of the now closed door. Similar rectangles of darkest ebony dotted the walls of the corridor as far as I could see. _I gotta get out of here._ This thought, tinged with great urgency, propelled me up the hall to the next egress, to scrabble frantically with the doorknob. The heavy mahogany panel fell open inward, depositing me on the floor in my urgency to get through. Rough, dirty stone scraped my knees and elbows and my sense of smell was assaulted by strong antiseptic odors, laced with the underlying scent of mold and mildew. I realized, with no great surprise, that I was stark naked. The sound of an unfamiliar, but not entirely unknown, voice brought my head up sharply.

"What is your name?" The calm, unhurried voice spoke from thin air, the tones echoing off the dank metal plated walls. The room was completely unoccupied except for me and…me?

A single apparatus stood in the middle of the cavernous space, an evil looking slab of burnished metal. Assorted straps and metal braces sprung from the surface for the sole purpose of restraining the likewise unclad occupant. Brianna Hastings.

I gaped, dumbfounded, at my doppelganger as the voice came again. "What is your name?"

"Brianna…" A look of utter misery crossed the subject's face and she tried to stifle a moan.

"No, that's wrong. What is your name?" The voice took on a stern quality, louder now.

I felt her…my…anguish rise once more as she tried to form the words. "Brianna… _HAST_" Again the look of torment, and this time she did cry out, bare back arched against the cold metal slab. A pain, like pure electricity, sliced through my head as well, and it was all I could do to keep my legs under me. I could feel parts of my psyche winking out like bad Christmas lights, synapses being rerouted. What the hell was going on?

Again the disembodied voice came, but this time a bit muffled and directed at someone else. "She is much stronger than we anticipated, sir. The implants are not having the desired effect."

"Then increase their frequency, you idiot. We need this subject ready in a week. Do I have to run this whole operation myself?" The second voice had a melodic Southern twinge to it, offset by the hard-as-steel tone. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and my lip curled involuntarily in a silent snarl. That voice. It made me want to cry, throw up, scream, unsheathe my claws and rip the room to shreds. It made me want to kill.

* * *

Xavier sat back and sighed. Great weariness etched lines in his otherwise smooth countenance. He'd been trying for the better part of an hour, unsuccessfully, to reach Brianna in the pathways of her mind. He could sense her, just out of reach, fleeing desperately from the memories that were encompassing her at every turn. Exactly what she was encountering in those long-inaccessible places, he did not know. But the professor knew that if Brianna was not brought out soon, even his great telepathic power would not be enough to save her from her demons.

* * *

Logan struck ferociously at the black-hooded ninja's bo staff, rendering it useless in one swipe of his large, calloused hand. The cloaked warrior was taken aback for only a microsecond, though, and came at Wolverine with viper-like speed, fists flying. They met head on, grunting loudly, and grappled for control of the katana the ninja was attempting to draw from behind his back. This was the kind of fighting Logan was used to. No holds barred, one on one, none of that dancing around like some hyperactive bird or something. He curled his lip in a vicious, humorless grin and brought the ninja's arm down and back sharply with a satisfying snap. The black-masked warrior fell to his knees with a muffled cry of agony. Just as Logan was unsheathing his adamantium claws to deliver the killing blow, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled swiftly and the walls of the Danger Room gave an odd wobbling shimmer, making him slightly dizzy. When his vision cleared, he was met with the horrific sight of Vixen, dirty and without a stitch of clothing, weaving precariously on her feet.

"Oh, my God!" Logan got his arms around the battered young woman just in time. He walked her over to the sparse metal army cot that had suddenly materialized in the corner. _What the…?_ This wasn't part of his program. The Danger Room worked off the user's mental images and scenarios they had downloaded previously. Occasionally, it would pick up ideas that were currently being thought of, just to keep things interesting. But Logan had no idea where this scene had come from.

Wolverine sat with Vixen cradled in his arms, eyeing suspiciously the dingy metal walls of the cell he now found them to be in.


	16. Deadly Connection

**Chapter 16**

Logan was, for one of the rare times in his life, completely at a loss for what to do. The Danger Room had gone completely off program and placed him in a scenario that he would never have envisioned. _Well…_he looked down at Vixen's dirt streaked face and bruised, naked body, _not quite this way, anyhow. _What had happened to her? Dried blood mottled her forearms all the way to the elbow, and streaked the rest of her skin like a gruesome tribal tattoo. What was she doing here in the first place? Why did he have the oddest, de javu-like feeling that he should KNOW?

Where the hell was Scott? He was supposed to be in the control room, ready to shut down if things got out of hand with any of the training programs. Logan glanced up to where the large Plexiglas window usually overlooked the Danger Room floor. There was nothing but bare, dingy metal plate around the entire perimeter of the ceiling. Of course, the high security cell didn't have any windows…Logan scowled. Where had _that_ thought come from?

A soft moan brought his thoughts back to the young woman in his arms. With a light touch, he smoothed Brianna's hair back off her face, tucking the wayward auburn curls behind her ears. Already the bruises had disappeared, but her beautiful face was still a mask of misery. "God, Logan…" Vixen shifted her weight and tucked herself up more securely against him. "I feel like I've been run over." The movement brought her bare breasts into direct contact with his equally exposed chest. Her dog tags, gleaming with newness, were cold against his skin. Logan bit his lip, hard, and tried desperately to squelch the sudden rush of desire that coursed through his body.

_Focus, dammit! _He growled to himself. _You need to work this problem, focus! _Was this a physical manifestation of his frustration at not being able to help Brianna? Had the Danger Room pulled this scene out of his subconscious, offering him an opportunity to physically protect her when she was mentally out of reach? That peculiar sense of familiarity struck him again and Logan found himself asking, without thinking, "What did the bastards do this time?" An image of bubbling fluid and surgical instruments flashed in his mind, things known all to well to him from his nightmares. Logan grasped Brianna's forearm and could feel the dull edges of the adamantium blades housed just beneath her skin. She winced and tried to pull away, but Logan's grip was iron.

"Oh, my God," he breathed, the anger he felt smoldering in him erupted into flames of rage. This was it. This was the place it had all happened. They had been here, together, being cut open and sewn back together like second-hand stuffed animals, some sick twisted asshole's lab rats. Visions came to him faster now, scenes of torture and forced violence, all designed to strip away any semblance of humanity, to turn Logan into a mindless, nameless killing machine. He crushed Vixen to himself, trying to lend her strength while at the same time fighting to keep the Wolverine at bay. The weight of the memories that threatened to engulf him was tremendous and his feral nature was urging him to run, kill, take as many of them out with him as he could.

"Logan." Brianna breathed his name, and began to rain hungry, desperate kisses on his collarbone, trailing her teeth up the side of his neck. The heat of her lips drove away any veneer of reason he might have had left, and he frantically claimed her mouth with his own, wanting to taste her, mark her as his. They had injured his mate. Logan plunged his tongue into Vixen's mouth, felt the scrape of her teeth as she returned his assault, wild with need and urgency. She was his, HIS! Those scumbags had no right…

---------------

I looked on in horror as my doppelganger clutched at Logan desperately, pressing herself against him, feeling her arousal as my own. It WAS my own, I realized, for this was the slice of memory I had seen the first night Logan and I met. Sweaty bodies, unbridled passion… I shook my head as the scene played out in front of me, a mounting sense of dread taking over. Something was going to go terribly wrong. The irrational fear I had experienced when Logan and I were in the hay barn threatened to overwhelm me again. _Oh, God, no! _I screamed, trying to warn the man in front of me, but no one could hear me inside my own head. I watched in utter horror as the Brianna of my memory placed her fist against Logan's washboard abdomen and, with a wicked, unblinking grin, unsheathed her claws.

--------------------

Jean had been monitoring Brianna through the evening, insisting to the Professor that he take a break. She could tell the toll this situation was taking on Xavier, who had become attached to his newest protégé very quickly. _He cares about us all too much,_ she mused, and a smile rose to her lips. The Professor's love and concern was the driving force behind the X-men's cohesiveness as a team. And as a family.

The doctor looked down at the woman on the exam table, and smoothed a bit of hair off Brianna's forehead. Logan loved her. Jean could sense it continuously, like a stream of silent music connecting Wolverine and Vixen, wherever they were. She prayed it would be this connection that brought her friend back from the void. Jean had also gotten very close to Brianna in the short time she had been at the mansion, their similar mental abilities giving them a camaraderie even the doctor and Storm, teammates for years, did not share. _Well, that AND Logan,_ Jean thought with a small grin.

Brianna was stirring a bit, lips moving silently. Placing tentative fingers on the other woman's temples, Jean probed delicately with her mind, hoping to see something that would help her bring Vixen out of her nightmare.

_-FLASH-_

_Brianna and Logan were huddled together in a dark, musty cell. He was holding her close, murmuring softly in her ear. Brianna was exhausted and, even with her healing abilities, in pain. Logan was fighting to keep his anger in check, furious at what had been done to his woman._

A worried look crossed Jean's face. She shouldn't be sensing Logan's presence in Brianna's psyche, not like this. It was as if…as if she were tapped into his feelings at the same time. Curious, Jean probed further.

_Logan crushed Brianna into a passionate embrace, all semblance of control gone. They kissed violently, nails drawing blood, marking each other as theirs. Then, suddenly, a sense of foreboding in the air. Brianna shifted slightly and with a quiet _snikt_, ran her lover through with deadly adamantium claws._

Jean let out a strangled cry that brought Storm running from the other side of the med lab. "What is it? What did you see?" the dark skinned beauty asked, concern furrowing her brow. She grasped her friend by the upper arms, directing the doctor's terrified gaze to her own. "Jean!"

Jean's mouth worked silently, the words to describe what she had seen just out of her reach. Was this an actual memory of Brianna's, of what had happened to her? And _why _had she, Jean, felt Logan's pain physically, as if the vision she has witnessed were actually real?

At that moment, Scott burst into the lab, cursing under his breath, looking decidedly worried despite his ruby red sunglasses. "Jean, the Danger Room, now. It's Logan."


	17. A Way Out

Yay, a new chapter! Thank you everyone that's still hanging in there with me, my muse is working very sporadically these days. And before you read, please don't flame me for how I treat the mental linking. Enjoy!

**Chapter 17**

Logan lay flat on his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling of the Danger Room. "Where the hell have you been, Summers?" he barked as Scott, Jean and Storm all clamored through the security door. Xavier glided in after them.

"The program wouldn't respond to the shut down command, and you apparently couldn't hear me over the intercom," Scott replied flatly.

Jean knelt down next to her injured teammate, a disturbed look marring her beautiful features. She noted the three almost-healed puncture wounds lined up on Logan's stomach. "Did you do that to yourself?" the doctor queried, already half-knowing the answer in her mind.

Logan sat up and fixed Jean with a piercing stare that, like always, made her think he might be a telepath as well. Or it could just be the fact that everything she felt showed on her face. Scott constantly said she would be a terrible card shark. "Nooo," Logan answered slowly, the fire in those hazel eyes igniting. "Vixen did. But you know that, don't you?"

Xavier moved to Jean's side and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Jean has a theory, Logan. Come, we need to talk."

* * *

I ran blindly, panic making my feet numb and clumsy. _Gotta get out, gotta get out!_ My inner voice was not quite so cheerful anymore. But how? Trapped in the corridors of my own mind, another horrific memory behind every door, I felt lost and utterly hopeless. Best to stop running. Yes, yes, just find a quiet place and stay there. That way they can't hurt you. _No! Gotta keep moving! Gotta get out! They're right behind you!_ They WHO! I realized I now I was a killer, a conditioned, cold-blooded assassin, but for what purpose? Who were the sick, evil bastards that had done this to me? Overwhelmed, unable to go on alone, I crumpled into a corner and threw my arms over my head, shielding myself from the past and remembering no more.

* * *

"Could you run this by me again? 'Cause it sounds like some seriously messed up business." Logan paced the length of the medical suite, muscular legs carrying him across the span so quickly that Jean had to turn herself in circles to keep up the conversation.

"I felt you being stabbed. When I saw the memory in Brianna's mind, I could feel your presence as well. The link you two have is apparently much, much stronger than first realized. By purposely bringing your memories into sync with hers again, I believe…we…" Voicing the theory that only the Professor had realized before now, the doctor's confidence faltered. "We believe you can guide her back."

Logan paused next to Xavier, who was monitoring Brianna's mental activity with a carefully neutral look of concentration on his face. If anyone could pull this crazy mission off, he knew Charles was the one. The wheelchair-bound mutant had mental powers that surpassed just telepathy. "Ok. What's the plan?" Wolverine turned to his teammates, including Nightcrawler who had joined them in the med lab.

Jean let go the breath she had been holding. Getting Logan to agree to this experiment had been the most dreaded hurdle. Now the teamwork clicked into place. "We'll use the Danger Room again. I will bring your memory back to the point you last saw Brianna and…"

"Could we forgo the skewering this time?" Logan asked with a grimace.

A nervous chuckle escaped Jean's lips. "Sure, I think I can manage that. Now, the Professor and I will link up and we will bring your and Brianna's memories together. Synced up like that, with your bond being as strong as it is, you should actually be able to interact with her. Scott will be monitoring physically from the control room, and Kurt will be on standby to teleport you out if anything goes wrong again." Nightcrawler gave a nod of agreement from the corner he had perched himself in.

A general murmuring went through the team, details being discussed in earnest. Charles voice cut through the conversations, commandingly urgent. "We must act immediately. I've just lost her."


	18. Race Against Time

**Chapter 18**

I'm frightened by what I see

But somehow I know that there's much more to come.

Immobilized by my fear

And soon to be blinded by tears

I can stop the pain if I will it all away.

"Whisper"--Evanescence

copyright 2003 Wind-up Entertainment, Inc.

* * *

Jean took a deep, trembling breath and touched her fingers to Logan's slick temples. Her own upper lip was beaded with nervous perspiration, but she ignored it, concentrating on the task at hand. _Professor? We're ready, _she called silently to Xavier. _Do you have Brianna?_

_Yes, but my sense of her is very weak. I may have to use a bit more force. _Jean could feel the older man's reluctance. _Please start, I will find you._

"C'mon Jean, let's move," Logan barked impatiently. The stark fear he had felt at the professor's words in the med lab fueled his desperation. He searched again for Vixen's presence in his psyche, and the silence he met made his blood run cold. He couldn't voice the unbearable ache in his heart at the thought of …not when they had just found…

Jean knew the turmoil going through her teammate's mind. She took Logan's face in her hands, directing his gaze to her own. "You will find her, Logan. I promise you. You won't be alone." She opened her mind and Logan could see her deep friendship for Brianna, her delight at the other woman's happiness with him. And the doctor's love for Wolverine, as well. Jean truly wanted him to be at peace. She was one of the few that understood what a rare, elusive feeling that was for him.

_Love ya, Jeannie. Let's do this. _Logan focused his thoughts on the dingy, cold cell where his woman had tried to kill him on that long-forgotten day. Jean once again placed shaking fingers to heated temples, nodded up to Scott in the control room…

And the world turned sideways.

* * *

_Brianna, can you hear me?_ A ghostly voice whispered in my mind. _Brianna, I want to help you!_ I ignored it. They were trying to trick me into giving away my position. Best to stay quiet and invisible. The echoing whisper persisted, growing stronger. _Brianna!_

_No, go away, go away, no more, I can't…_I tried to sink into the floor, my arms tight over my head.

"Brianna Hastings! On your feet!" A truly audible voice bellowed over my head, startling me. There had been no precursory scent to warn me of anyone approaching. An unpleasant fizzy feeling began to tingle in the back of my neck. The voice was sternly commanding, but held no underlying malice. "Vixen! Now! You cannot stay here!" And in my head that whisper again, _Come with me, Brianna, we'll see you safe. _

As if drawn against my will, I peered out from under one crooked elbow. My gaze was met with a pair of well-shod feet and…wheels?

* * *

Logan felt as if he were on an out-of-control roller coaster. With Jean drawing them out, the memories were fragmented and jumbled, everything flying past him in a loud brilliant kaleidoscope of voices and faces, just out of reach. How the hell was this going to work?

Jean gritted mental teeth. _Concentrate, Logan. Brianna, we're looking for Brianna! _The flame-haired doctor focused her power a bit more. She could feel the heat building in her body as she guided the stream of Logan's thoughts. _Brianna, we've got to find her._

With a resolute growl, Wolverine forced all his will to that one point, finding the woman he loved amidst the chaos that was his altered psyche. Such was his concentration that he did not see the fire ignite behind Jean's eyes as they navigated further into the past.

* * *

"Brianna."

I raised my eyes, past burnished metal, smooth leather and they came to rest on the glowing countenance of an angel. A bald, hawk-nosed, wheelchair-bound angel. This visage puzzled me all the more as it began to fade, then flashed back to solidity. I winced as the buzzing, painful sensation spread up the back of my head. The bright aura around the man's head was gone, replaced by a look of extreme worry and regret.

"Brianna, you need to come with me. It is dangerous to stay here much longer." He held out a hand, offering to help me to my feet.

I eyed the stranger warily, unsure of my own reasons for suddenly trusting this man. It seemed as if I knew him, his presence fuzzily familiar like the faces in my dreams. But the pain in my head was rising to wasp-sting intensity and making it terribly hard to concentrate.

My companion's expression changed from concern to resolve. "Logan is waiting for you, Brianna. He wants you home." _Logan…_the name brought hope to my heart. Again a hand was extended and this time I took it without hesitation.

A gasp escaped my lips as the hazy veil was lifted from my psyche. "Professor! How…what…" The pain sliced through my head again, and Xavier's form began to fade.

"You need to go on your own, Brianna. If I stay too long I could kill you. Logan and Jean are looking for you, somewhere up there." The Professor nodded his head to indicate the long hallway that was once again dotted with ebony doors. My memories, the keys to my past were all waiting for me to discover them. And somewhere in the jumble of forgotten places and horrific events my soulmate was searching, trying to lead me back to the real world.

* * *

_Grey, dingy walls…the smell of mildew, blood and despair…Vixen, where are you?...soldiers with guns…rage, fear…Jean, help!...concentrate…high security, great danger threat if he gets loose…take the woman first…_

Logan hit the floor, hard, biting his tongue and tasting blood. Cold metal and concrete gave his shouted expletives a hollow echo in his ears. After a quick appraisal, Logan realized he was back in the maximum security cell of his memory. "We did it! Jean!" But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

_I'm here, Logan,_ Dr. Grey's voice whispered in his head. _But you need to do this part on your own. Brianna is coming, the Professor set her on our trail. _

_But what do I do?_

Logan could feel Jean's smile. _Lead her out, Wolverine. Just like you did, here, years ago. You saved her once, you can do it again._

And Logan remembered.


	19. The End?

**Chapter 19--The End?**

**  
**

You'll rescue me right?  
In the exact same way they never did  
I'll be happy right?  
when your healing powers kick in.

"Precious Illusions"--Alanis Morissette  
copyright 2002 Universal-MCA Music

* * *

Now I ran with purpose up the narrow corridor in my mind, focused only on locating Logan and getting out. Xavier's presence was but a whisper again, urging me on. _Come home, Brianna. Soon._ But where to find the Wolverine was the puzzle. I felt for our empathic connection, hoping to use it as a homing beacon. Silence was my only response, and I felt the apprehension start to well up again. _Concentrate. Think of where you last saw Logan. You will find him. _Taking hope from the Professor's thoughts, I pressed on, my mind constantly searching for the man I loved. 

There! Suddenly I felt a rush of anger and determination that could only be Logan. The sense of him was overpowering and I flew to the door at the end of my hall of memories. Turning the knob, I felt the Professor's relief in my head, and knew I had made the right choice. The entrance swung open and I was involuntarily propelled into the room, as if by a rough, invisible hand. The walls shimmered a bit, making my stomach do a funny twist and my brain feel like it was being stirred with a stick.

This was my and Wolverine's cell. The fetid den our tormentors had kept us in while turning us into animals and, ultimately, assassins. I felt the sick rage again, the wont to kill strong and undeniable. Recollection fought against my grasp of present reality and the two became indistinguishable. Wild eyed, my breath came in short, painful gasps as I struggled with the inner fury. I opened my mouth and the sound that came out was not human, but a feral howl of death.

And then the Wolverine was there, wrapping me in his protective embrace and making me sane once more.

* * *

As Brianna appeared in the room, Logan felt present and past collide in a sickening way. He knew for a fact that he was in the Danger Room, with Jean, Scott and the rest of the team standing by. But the memories attached to this particular vision were so strong now that time folded in on itself and he was, once more, the Wolverine, a man struggling to keep his humanity. Pain, brainwashing and mental torture had all been applied to strip away any semblance of civility, to break down any emotional pretenses. What they wanted was an animal, a brutal killer, and they were winning. 

_Logan, remember why you're here. _A calm, soothing voice spoke inside his head. _Brianna needs to come home._

Jean! Logan's thoughts came sharply into focus. The adamantium-laced mutant fought mightily to keep his feral side from taking over. The woman he loved was here. They had to get out, soon, before neither of them knew who they were anymore. Vixen's heartbreaking cry got his feet moving. Logan crossed the room and took her in his arms, silently willing her to fight for lucidity as he felt his own slipping with each heartbeat.

* * *

Jean Grey kept her telepathy focused on the X-man down on the Danger Room floor. She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes as she trained all her power on Logan, guiding him through the melee of newly surfaced memories. Knowing that things were still hidden from his damaged mind, Jean worried that too much revelation at once would send him into an irretrievable tailspin. But she was also familiar with Logan's inner strength and his multitude of coping mechanisms. The fiery-haired doctor prayed these would be enough to bring her friends back. To lose them both now would devastate the entire family. _YOU have the power to keep them safe,_ a strange, beautiful voice came to life in her mind, bringing visions of unbridled sensuality and unlimited potential, all in the shadow of a blazing phoenix. Somewhat alarmed, Jean puzzled over these things for a moment, then returned her concentration to the mission at hand. But the glow remained in her cheeks. Scott noticed, and thought she had never looked so beautiful. Or dangerous.

* * *

The sense of deja-vu was overwhelming as Logan crushed me to his chest, stroking the back of my neck and muttering words of comfort. My bogged-down mind tried to sort out what I was feeling. Exhaustion, pain and residue of the unknown made it hard to focus on anything other than the man holding me. I could sense Logan's desolation and fear, combining with a killing rage so primal that it was almost a physical energy. As I stayed wrapped in Wolverine's arms, that feeling of brutal fury began to invade my own psyche. I could feel the keen edges of the seven-inch metal claws I had been equipped with tingling beneath the pale skin of my forearms, almost aching to be extended. Someone needed to pay… 

Slowly, I realized that Logan's low murmuring had shifted to soft, growling exhalations against my hair. Large, warm hands began to roam across my back, leaving tendrils of heat in their wake. Unintelligible sounds that may have been my name escaped from Logan's lips as they trailed biting kisses along the side of my neck He pushed me away, roughly, and I was fixed with a fiery gaze that terrified me, even as ripples of excitement ran down my spine. Pulling me to him again, Wolverine crushed his mouth to mine, bruisingly rough. His desperate passion fueled my own and I rose to meet his assault, eagerly returning his kiss. We grasped at each other in a frenzy of need, trying to keep hold of the one sure thing we had in this living nightmare, even as our sanity receded.

And this time, when the panic began to mount, it was a weak background to the bloodlust that had been programmed into my broken mind. I was hard-wired to kill anyone that turned me on.

* * *

"Oh, God," Charles Xavier breathed in disbelief. "They turned her into a black widow." The Professor cursed himself mentally for not seeing this sooner, for not being able to help Brianna before things went too far. _Jean! _He called out to his protégé, _be ready to act quickly, whatever happens. _ He sensed the lovely doctor's acknowledgement, and an almost joyous feeling of expectation, as if she was looking forward to the challenge. 

Good. Xavier knew this was going to get tricky. They couldn't interfere now without risking damage to both Vixen and Wolverine's mentality. There would be a proper time to end the scenario; he just hoped he knew when that was, and that Jean seeming confidence in her powers didn't falter.

* * *

The quiet _snikt! _of deadly blades being unsheathed pierced the fog of animal recklessness in Logan's brain just enough. His reflexes took over and he barely dodged Vixen's ruthless jab at his vital organs. He vaguely registered a strange fleshy sound as his own claws shot from between his knuckles, and he found himself striking back at his cell mate with unconscious force. Again, the sick, reality warping feeling hit Logan: the hand that swung out at Brianna was adorned with nine inch bone talons. They hadn't finished with him yet. 

Vixen stepped back to evade the powerful swipe but stood her ground. A snarl issued from between barred teeth and Logan advanced ruthlessly on the smaller female, who glaring hazel eyes held no fear. In his tortured mind, Logan heard his own voice yelling to stop, he LOVED this woman for Christ's sake, but the Wolverine paid no heed. Vixen leapt at him and the pair grappled fiercely, both of them attempting to throw the other to the cold concrete floor. Blood seeped from incidental wounds inflicted by carelessly wielded claws. Attempting to trip Vixen up, Wolverine caught her ankle with his own and the back of her head slammed into the wall with a dull metallic thud. Logan winced, rationality gaining control for a moment. "We…can't…do this! Brianna…" But Vixen swung at him again, no recognition in her face, only the conditioned look of an unthinking killing machine.

* * *

_My God, what is happening, Hastings ?!? Don't let them do this to you! Don't let them win! _My body seemed to be on autopilot as I lashed out at Logan, unrelenting as we deflected vicious blows from each other, metal striking bone, sweat and bone shards flying. 

"Brianna, listen…to…me!" Logan seemed to be forcing the words out. "We've gotta…" He slipped under my arm in mid-arc and came up behind me, catching me in a half-nelson. "We…need to…get…get out! Now, before…GAH!!" I brought my foot down on his instep and broke free of his grip. The overwhelming urge to kill had passed, but my brain was still having trouble distinguishing memory from reality. I spun to face Wolverine, adamantium blades still extended in defense. It registered only then that his claws were not encased in the same indestructible metal.

"Logan, how…" I blinked in uncertainty. "Why are you here? I mean…how is this possible? Your…why…" My thoughts were still scrambled.

"I'm in the Danger Room with Jean. She brought me here to lead you out. That lady is more powerful than anyone thinks." Logan looked at me with such relief and love in his lupine eyes that all the questions I had were forgotten. I'd get the details from Doc when I got home.

"So how do we do this?" I wanted out of this nightmare with every fiber of my being. "Even the Professor couldn't help me."

"Charlie would kill you if he stayed in your head too long. Jean figured out that with our connection, I could get in here to find you. And…" Logan hesitated, his apprehension clear, "We could both follow the memory to the end." I gasped, fragments of subconscious flotsam coalescing.

"Yes! I…I think I remember. They were testing us, our abilities. That's why…" Logan and I locked eyes and now I understood his concern. "That's why we were trying to tear each other apart. But," my voice cracked in horror, "back then..."

"Back then I killed you." Logan finished with a vehement growl. "Or they made me think I did."

My heart clenched in my chest as I realized what needed to be done.

* * *

Xavier saw the scenario unfolding as he knew it must. _Jean! Be ready to take Logan out at my signal. _

_I understand, Professor. I sensed how this would end when Logan and I came in. _The young telepath's thoughts were very sure and clear. Xavier felt a great underlying power that hadn't been with the doctor before, almost on the level with his own. He acknowledged this, keeping his concerns shielded until the danger to his other X-men was past.

_Almost...Jean, keep watch...steady...steady...NOW!_

As prepared as the two mutants were for the outcome of this scenario, both cried out as they watched Wolverine run Vixen through with all eight bone talons, his unearthly scream shattering the air.


	20. Revelations

Again, disclaimers. I own none of the X-men, yadda, yadda.

**Chapter 20**

Logan's tormented howl did little to express the true depth of pain that tore at his heart. Gone was any realization, however subconscious, that this was a Danger Room scenario. He was reliving his worst nightmare: the death of his soulmate and his humanity. Through a blur of hot tears and black rage he could make out Brianna's pale face, frozen in shock, not yet registering pain. She bent her head to look at Logan's claws embedded under her ribcage, and a drizzle of bloody saliva hit his hand, unpleasantly warm. Brianna's slightly glazed stare turned up to his anguished face. Amazingly, she smiled, the expression distorted by the crimson rivulet running from the corner of her mouth. "Thank you," she whispered, and the light went out in her beautiful hazel eyes.

* * *

Utter shock and disbelief kept Scott from reacting for a moment, so unthinkable was the scene playing out before him. Then reflexes took over and the lead X-man reached for the override button, at the same time calling to Nightcrawler over the comm link in his ear. "Kurt! We need extraction!" 

"NO!" Jean's exclamation stopped Scott's finger in midair. "I need to do this." The voice that issued from between the doctor's lips was hers, but changed somehow, imperious and sure. For some reason that altered tone struck fear in Scott's heart.

Jean's gaze never wavered from the observation window, through which she could now see Logan retracting his claws. Vixen's blood dripped from his knuckles as he watched her body crumple to the floor. The doctor hardly recognized her friend, his face was contorted into such a mask of agony. Armed men, and a few in white lab coats, swarmed into the room below, taking advantage of Wolverine's grief stricken paralysis. They shackled him, injected him with potent sedatives and seemed to lead him away, while others placed his lover's prone, blood-streaked form on the cot, checking for vital signs.

Jean Grey reached out to the tormented mutant with her mind, buffering him, carefully bringing his fragmented psyche back to reality. Scott stared as if seeing his lover for the first time. He could almost sense a fiery halo around Jean's head, so strong were the psi waves she produced. And the awe he felt amplified his foreboding even more.

* * *

The soldiers half-dragged a dazed, growling Logan across the room, accompanied by a steely declaration through the intercom. "Good! The subject should be much more...cooperative now, gentlemen. Take him to the grafting chamber." The acrimonious drawl in that voice caused the hackles to rise on Wolverine's neck. Vixen, his mate, was dead and the animal in him screamed for revenge. Then why couldn't he function? The drugs they used...so strong... 

Like the opening of an oven door, Jean Grey's presence suffused his consciousness in warmth and sudden clarity. _Logan, I'm here. You can come home now, you've done what you need to do. _The voice was clear and purposeful, brooking no opposition. A cocoon of psychic energy enveloped his mind, bringing him fully back to himself and present reality. But the gaping wound in his heart remained fresh. Brianna…

_Brianna, she's...Jean, I can't leave! _But Logan's protests went unheeded. He felt an unrelenting pull at his thoughts, the dank metal walls dissolved into nothingness, and the mental roller coaster lurched into reverse.

He found himself back in the Danger Room, dazed and feeling battered. But his thoughts were still back in that hell hole, the newly acquired knowledge of his past opening wounds long scabbed over. Logan knew that Brianna was alive in the med lab across the hall, but the sensation of her flesh tearing around his claws, the warm blood spilling across his knuckles, brought all his self-loathing into sharp clarity. _I'm a monster... They took everything from me, my life, my sanity…_ He'd never felt this vile and alone.

Jean and Scott appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and Logan felt the current of love and respect from his friends fill the room. Dr. Grey wrapped her arms around him and for once Scott didn't bristle with territorial male possessiveness. Surprisingly, the younger man clasped Wolverine's shoulder in a show of support. Taking a deep breath, Logan squeezed Jean tightly, and let her go. "Thanks," he whispered hoarsely, unable to say more. He turned to the door, not wanting his teammates to see the tear that escaped down his cheek.

* * *

"She's not running anymore. We've set Brianna on the proper path back, but it's still up to her to follow it through." The Professor opened his eyes and looked up at the X-men, gathered back in the medical facility. 

"Damnit, Xavier, you said my going in there would bring her out of it! Are you saying all that crap…I dredged all that up…it was for NOTHING?!?" Wolverine raged at the wheelchair-bound mutant. His fists flexed involuntarily with a barely controlled urge to unsheathe his blades and destroy something. He felt naked and betrayed.

Professor Xavier was calm in his reply. "No, Logan, on the contrary. We would have had no hope if you hadn't done what you did. I know it was terribly hard, but I trust it has helped both Brianna and you." _She will come back to us, have faith, _he silently assured his usually stoic associate.

Logan pulled a chair up to Vixen's bedside and sat down resolutely. "I'm not leavin' until she wakes up." He held her small, limp hand between his, pressing his lips against the slender fingers. "And if she doesn't, Charlie…I can't say what will happen." His voice was guttural with emotion. If this second chance with his soulmate was destroyed, Logan felt sure that the Wolverine might just take over for good.


	21. All or Nothing

Sorry the last chapter was so short but my muse has been on extended vacation. Thank you so much to everyone that's reading, I hope to have this roller coaster ride finished soon!

**Chapter 21**

There I was, laid out on a table

Screamin' sweat and bare feet on the floor

In my life, I'd not soften

Things that cut, and burn so often

But I sit, think of somethin'

Scared to face the dyin' nothin'.

"It Ain't Like That" Alice in Chains ©1990 Buttnugget Publishing

The passage of time seemed to stop for Logan now. The hours and days all blended into one singular chasm of darkness that enveloped his whole world. Completely impervious to hunger or the need for rest, all of his time was spent at Brianna's bedside. Xavier was there often, as was Jean, to monitor the comatose empath's brain activity. But any suggestions made to Logan regarding taking a break or getting some sleep were met with grim silence or noncommittal grunts. The trays of food that Storm brought in were left untouched. Nothing could snap Wolverine out of his inward-directed vigil. He constantly tested his mental link with Brianna, occasionally finding a glimmer of contact, but nothing substantial. There was also time to do much thinking, and Logan spent it trying to come to terms with what he now knew about his past.

He had been searching so long for the pieces of his life, at the same time knowing somehow that the truth would be more painful than the amnesia. Now the memories that Jean had drawn out only served to confirm what he had always thought of himself: he was nothing but an animal. Logan's tortured mind replayed every scene of bloodshed and torture, felt again the feral urges and underlying self-loathing. How many people had he murdered in cold blood? _I couldn't even keep Vixen safe from myself. _ His heart lurched sickeningly. If she came out…_when, damnit, WHEN, not if…_when she came out of her coma, how would she even be able to look at him?

"She loves you Logan." The warm, soothing voice startled him out of his ruminations. His thoughts had been so all consuming that he hadn't heard or smelled anyone come in the room.

Jean approached with a soft smile. "Didn't mean to scare you." Logan just raised an eyebrow. The doctor's look grew serious and she crouched next to him, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "Logan, don't…"

"I know, I know, Logan don't worry. I hear it every fuckin' day! Don't WORRY?!? Bree might never wake up! How..." The adamantium-laced mutant choked off his words and lowered his head in despair.

Dr. Grey spoke calmly. "No, don't forget that I understand. Everything. I was there with you. I know what you both went through, and how much you and Brianna need each other." Logan winced.

"Stop beating yourself up! What you did was out of your control, you were worked over like a human voodoo doll, for God's sake!" Anger flared red in Jean's eyes. "Damn _homo sapiens _don't…" The look of astonishment on Logan's face cut her short. "Sorry. That's not me, is it?"

"No, it's not. Appreciate the sentiments though, Jeannie." He couldn't spare the effort to wonder over the doctor's sudden vitriol. "How's she doin'?" Logan stroked Brianna's cheek softly, mentally probing yet again for the sweet sensation of their linked emotions. Small sparks of contact tortured him with their brevity and elusiveness.

Jean rose and moved to the head of the table, placing her fingers against Vixen's temples as she had so many times in the past days. After a few moments, a small look of worry passed over her face, and Logan was on instant alert. "What's wrong?" He could tell his friend was torn over whether to say anything. "C'mon, Jean. Give it to me straight."

"Progress is very slow, Logan." The beautiful doctor wrinkled her brow in concentration. "Slower than I…Charles…would have expected. It seems like…like she's losing focus again. She's tired, Logan," Jean added quickly as the hirsute Canadian's face darkened in anger. "Brianna is still working through the memory, just not as quickly as we would like. Don't…" She bit off the automatic "worry" that came to her lips. "Don't lose faith."

"I don't put my faith in anything."

Jean's heart broke a little for the pain she felt in Logan's words. She wished desperately she could give him the peace he deserved, the security his tortured psyche needed to heal. _You can bring the girl back to him. _That strange inner voice spoke to Jean again, and the feeling of fiery power that came with it made her eyes burn. _It's very simple…_Shaking her head a bit in confusion, the doctor sent Logan a wave of calming psi energy. "Try and get some rest. Brianna needs you to be one hundred percent when she comes home." When no reply was forthcoming, the doctor sighed and left her friend to take what encouragement he could from her words.

Logan waited until he heard the mechanical hiss of the med lab door closing, then spoke to the small, still form on the bed. "Where are you, darlin'? You gotta keep going, don't give up now. There're lots of people here who love you." His voice cracked at the last, the words feeling foreign to his tongue. "I…damn…**I** love you, Brianna." Hot, painful tears slid down his cheeks and dripped onto the sheet covering Brianna prone figure. "I love you." Suddenly, Logan felt the constricting steel bands on his soul loosen and some of the ever-present loneliness dissipated. Acknowledging his feelings, albeit only to himself, seemed to bring an uncharacteristic feeling of peace and clarity to his thoughts.

There had to be some way to bring Brianna out of her post-traumatic fugue. Logan was sure, with all that had transpired in the last few days, that there was some small bit of information that had been overlooked, something he could use to reach his mate. Jean's words came back to him, uttered at the beginning of their odyssey in the Danger Room. _Lead her out, you saved her once, you can do it again._ But how? They had been separated, Logan believing Brianna was dead. How had he saved her? Some of the mental images were still blurry, most likely due to the drugs they had used on him. He contemplated again the scenario in which he had left Vixen, and forced himself to face the memory of what had followed. There had to be something…

The soldiers had dragged him, fighting feebly, down the dank cold corridor to a cavernous room. Logan remembered sickly green lights, the stench of antiseptic and his own fear and rage. This was hell…the grafting chamber, the final resting place if his humanity. He had escaped with nothing left of himself but his base survival instincts and a feral need to kill. Logan concentrated harder. What had he done to get Vixen …? A light ignited in his dark eyes and a small smirk cracked his sullen demeanor. "Follow your nose, darlin', follow your nose." He leaned in and kissed Brianna full on the mouth. "I'm coming for you."


	22. Coming Home

This chapter is a little longer, as I thought the story would be finished by now. As I kept writing, it just kept coming...so enjoy! Again, I don't own the X-men, yada, yada...

**Chapter 22**

Logan was gone, and I felt as if my last hope of ever breaking out of this nightmare had gone with him. I lay staring at the dark metal ceiling, trying futilely to remember how this scenario was supposed to proceed, but everything in my brain seemed to be on hold, waiting for something…but what? My mind lay cold and heavy, like the adamantium in my bones.

Klaxon alarms brought my head off the pillow and my heart into my throat, breaking me out of the maddening circle of thoughts in which I had lost myself. I was still in the high security cell, laid out on the cot where the lab coats had left me. They had seemed unsurprised that I survived the Wolverine's attack. I heard voices, raised in urgency, pass outside the door. "Secure the corridor, Section 203, report! The subject…" Footsteps thundered past, orders were shouted and all the while the deafening sound of the alarm kept on. Something started to tickle the edge of my memory. "..ode 4! Repeat Code 4! Close off…!"

Suddenly, my cell door flew open, and an angry, goatee-ed man entered, veins popping out of his forehead as he spit commands at the soldiers who accompanied him. "Take her out! She's our bait. Wolverine is very…attached…to her." His face screwed up in disgust.

_Wolverine._ My heart pounded even harder. This was it! The pieces were starting to fall into place. Logan had escaped somehow, and they were going to use our connection to try and recapture him. Two armed men approached me and I got slowly to my feet, feigning more grogginess than I truly felt. Lead them to think I was little threat and I could use that to my advantage. They each grabbed an arm and started to pull me forward, but stopped short at the shouted expletive from the leader. "The cuffs, you idiots!" He threw a heavy-looking restraining device at the closest soldier, causing him to release his grip on me.

I lost no time in taking advantage of his distraction. The _snikt!_ of my claws was lost in the cacophony of noise in the hallway and the first soldier hit the ground with the high-tech handcuffs. A fist full of metal to the nose dropped the second and I leapt toward the man with the goatee, who was aiming a tranquilizer gun at me. With a growl I dove at his knees and his shot went awry, darts pinging off the metal wall. We both scrambled for the pistol he had at his waist, and I felt a cold explosion in my thigh almost before the gun went off. Roaring in pain and rage, I drove my adamantium blades into the bastard's shoulders, slamming them into the floor beneath before retracting them in a gout of blood. His hoarse scream followed me as I stumbled into the hallway. I had to find Logan…

I limped-ran up the long dark corridor, heedless of any danger. _Logan!_ I reached out with my mind, and was met with mental chaos: jagged pain, inhuman bloodlust and red-black hate. Fear and confusion spurred me on, despite a growing feeling of heaviness in my limbs. My bare feet slipped out from under me and I fell to my knees on the damp, clammy floor. Waves of pain shot up my arms as my hands struck ground. It now felt as if someone had replaced my bones with red hot pokers. I could hear loud voices and heavy boot steps coming up the hallway behind me, and I scrambled frantically to my feet. I had no sense of direction in the darkness, how was I going to get out? Panic began to set in.

And then I smelled Logan. His earthy, masculine scent filled my nostrils, making my heart hammer in my chest. _LOGAN!_ My mind screamed, praying for a response. I had to find him. With all my force of will, I commanded my burning legs to move. There was a faint light ahead and Logan's presence was stronger, urging me past my point of endurance to RUN!

Then there really was a light, pricking at my consciousness through closed eyelids. I could smell something like magnolias, and sensed a presence watching over me. Forcing my eyes open with a gasp I, at last, let the brightness fully in.

I was home.

The light was coming from the banks of fluorescents that lined the ceiling in the med lab. I was flat on my back and could hear the beeps and hums of all the monitors. There was a squeal and an excited Southern voice called out, "Oh mah God, she's awake! Dr. McCoy!" A gloved hand grasped mine and I looked up into Rogue's face. She was beaming like a Christmas tree. Puzzled, but grateful, I squeezed her hand back.

"Wh…how long…" My mouth felt full of sand, and I licked my lips. "How long have I…?

A furry, blue, bespectacled face moved into view. "Welcome back, Ms. Hastings. You have been missed." His smooth voice was in stark contrast to his wild appearance.

"Blue must be the it color for mutants this year," I mumbled.

"You've been out for ah week," Rogue injected, answering my question.

Something wasn't right. My thoughts were rather erratic, still trying to come back fully to reality. But… "Where's Logan?" McCoy and Rogue exchanged a quick glance, and I knew something was terribly wrong. I automatically tried my empathic link with Logan, and was met with the same disjointed rage and overwhelming pain that I had experienced in my memory. It was him, but there was no human finesse to his emotions. A dread certainty came over me. "He's gone feral?" The sorrow that sprang to Rogue's eyes gave me my answer. "Oh my God…" I tried to sit up, and spots swirled before my eyes. "I've gotta get out of here."

Dr. McCoy steadied me with a large blue hand and his calming tone. "Don't be too hasty. Give yourself a while to get your bearings, and I'm going to call Charles." As if on cue, the Professor appeared at the door.

"Brianna!" His usually stoic countenance broke into a broad smile as he glided over to my bedside. "I'm very glad to see you."

"What happened, Professor? Logan…" my voice went up an octave with fear.

"Logan will be fine, I promise you. His mental state right now is a temporary situation." Xavier grasped my hand. "You were in a coma of sorts. Your memory was coming back, and you were being mentally overwhelmed by the situation. Jean, Logan and I tried to help, but…"

"Yeah, I remember Logan telling me that. Right before he tried to kill me." I winced at the memory. "But he was in control of himself then. What happened? Why…"

"You weren't coming out of it as fast as we had hoped. Logan went back into the Danger Room to relive the entire memory from his point of view, in the hopes that his presence would give you the extra guidance you needed. He was obviously successful." The Professor gave a sad smile. "But that required him to go through some of the most horrific experiences of his life all over again. And, as it did in the past, Logan's animal nature has taken over in response to the torture."

I'd never felt such pain, physically or mentally. Guilt, anger and fear all made my gut twist in a very ugly way. I scrambled off the table and just made it to the stainless steel sink, where my empty stomach tried to turn itself inside out. _My fault, oh my God…_

"It was Logan's decision, Brianna," Charles said firmly. "Please don't blame yourself. And like I said, it is a temporary state. I detect no permanent damage to his mind."

A thought came to me through the anger. "Why wasn't Jean with Logan when he did this? I thought she was helping him. And where is she now?" I wanted to deflect some of my impotent self-loathing, and my friend, in her absence, was an easy target.

Everyone in the room became deathly quiet and all eyes went to the man in the wheelchair. Professor Xavier took a deep breath and looked at me with great sorrow. "Jean is no longer with us." He seemed reluctant to say more, and I silently urged him on with an empathic gaze. "Logan didn't tell anyone when he went in the second time, and by the time we found him, it was too late." There was a pause. "Jean had been exhibiting some …unusual power and attitudes over the last few days, and when she realized what had happened to Logan's mind, and what had been done to him in the past, she had a sort of…a…"

"Meltdown." Rogue supplied with a dark frown. "She just went berserk."

"Yes, THANK you, Marie," Charles replied. "Jean and I had a…disagreement, and she left the mansion rather abruptly." The look he gave the southern girl brooked no further discussion. "Dr. Henry McCoy has graciously agreed to act as our physician in her absence. I will leave you in his very capable hands for now, Brianna, and after he's made sure you're physically well, you and I will talk."

I gave a silent nod, my shock robbing me of any words. The Professor turned smoothly and left the room. As the door hissed shut, Rogue immediately returned to my side, a suspiciously familiar gleam in her eye. "Dr. McCoy, could ya give us a minute? Ah've got something Ah need to tell Vixen."

Cookie Monster's cousin gave me a questioning frown over the half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. "I think I'm fine, really," I assured him. Rogue's tone had set me on alert, as had the look on her face. "Healing factor, you know." I showed the doctor a small smile.

"Humph. Very well, Ms. Hastings, I'll be in the other room." The azure-furred mutant gave a last glance at us as he exited through an archway opposite the main door.

As soon as he left, Rogue grabbed my hand and fixed me with a penetrating gaze, one eyebrow arched in a way I found hauntingly similar to…my jaw dropped in sudden comprehension. "Logan?"


End file.
